These Feelings That Rule Me
by RaisingAmara
Summary: Sam's going through a hard time, and Dean remembers what it felt like to be 14 and crazy. Sam will grow out of this new phase eventually, but will his teenage hormones cause him to make a decision that could land him in serious peril?
1. Chapter 1

Sammy had a crush on him.

Dean knew all the signs, and he smiled softly to himself as he navigated around the grungy laundromat, moving their clothes from the washer to the dryer.

It was harmless enough, he knew. Dean himself had fostered a major crush on the bass player for one of his favorite rock bands when he was Sam's age. It didn't make him gay though. Dean knew it was more hero-worship than it was anything else. Dean had grown out of it. Sam would too. But he felt a little guilty nonetheless. Dean remembered what it felt like to be 14 and confused. He remembered just how painful those feelings could be when your hormones were wiping the floor with your brain.

And Dean's crush had been half a world away, playing to packed auditoriums every night, not sleeping in the bed right next to him. That would have made things a little more tricky, he suspected.

So he'd been trying to be especially nice to Sam lately, teasing him less and asking for his opinion more often. Dean knew that Sam liked to contribute to things. It was why he always threw himself headfirst into every school project that came his way, and it was why he was so good at research. Unlike Dean, Sam valued himself by how important he was to other people. What was often the extra mile for someone like Dean was just normal effort for Sam. And that was a major part of what made him the sweet, sensitive kid that he was. Dean was determined not to destroy that, and so he found himself sort of walking on eggshells around his maturing brother these days.

He would never, ever knowingly hurt Sam. He'd cut out his own heart first. But sometimes when Dean was just being his usual dick self - flirting with the cutest redhead at the bar or indulging in a little down time with one of his favorite magazines, he'd glance over at Sam out of habit and see pain etched in his expressive face. Dean would stop whatever it was he was doing then, and smile at his brother while suggesting they rent a movie or shoot a game of pool together. It was redirection, and Dean was a master at it.

But Dean knew it didn't make the pain feel any less real.

He shook his head and snorted gently. Man, it had sucked being 14. He wouldn't do it over again for anything, not for all the money in the world, not for all the shiniest new weapons, not even for Carmelita - the star of his favorite porno.

Not being in control of your own body, your own urges - that sucked ass.

So Dean understood what his brother was going through, even though he knew Sam would probably curl up and die if he knew that Dean knew that Sam felt that way.

But Dean would never let on, never sit Sam down and try to talk to him about … this. It would just be too awkward - probably more for Sam even, than for himself. And he knew Sam would never admit it anyway. Winchesters were tough. They were love 'em and leave 'em types. They weren't the kind of guys who gave into those mushy feelings when those feelings came knocking.

Not even when they were 14 years old and consumed by out-of-control hormones.

Sam would grow out of it. And in the meantime, Dean would do what he could to avoid causing his little brother more angst.

That was Dean's plan, and Dean's plans almost always worked.

Almost.


	2. Meeting Jeremy

Sam sat across from Dean in the crowded diner, trying to concentrate on the menu the blond waitress had placed in his hands, but Dean was making it difficult. From the moment they'd sat down in the cramped booth by the window, the waitress had made a beeline straight for them, or at least, straight for Dean. She didn't really have much of anything at all to say to Sam, and he was fine with that.

She was kind of creepy, he thought. Her hair was at least three different colors, and her skirt was way too short, and she had too many buttons undone on her shirt. She sort of looked like she'd just crawled out of bed and hit the floor running.

Probably that was why Dean seemed to think she was the hottest invention since silver bullets.

Sam sighed quietly to himself. He was used to becoming invisible when he traveled with his older brother. Dean was a ladykiller, and Sam had known it for years. One look at the older boy's blinding grin, and the ladies fell down to worship in a mile-wide radius.

What Sam couldn't figure out is why it suddenly bothered him so much. He shouldn't care less what the little blond skank was whispering in Dean's ear as Sam sat there like he didn't matter. He shouldn't have cared that Dean grinned and whispered back conspiratorially where Sam couldn't hear.

He did care though. He cared, and he just felt … weird. Like he was jealous or something. It was an unfamiliar feeling, and Sam couldn't quite put his finger on it. All he knew for certain was that if she didn't take his order soon, he was going to just give up and head back to the car.

"Can I order now, please?" Sam interrupted, a little louder and more rudely than he'd intended.

The girl dialed down her desperate smile and shot him a dirty look. She reached into her pocket for her notepad. "Sure. You go right ahead, hon." She addressed him like he was 10.

"I want the western omelette with no onions, hash browns, and orange juice, please." Sam tried smiling up at her to make up for his harsh tone, but she just glared and cracked her gum and scribbled something on her pad, turning to Dean.

"And you, Dean? What can I do for you?" She asked suggestively.

But Dean was suddenly all business. "Uh, I'll have the pancakes, bacon, and the western omelet with extra onions." he said, shooting Sam a wink on the word "extra."

"You want a drink, Dean?" She purred. "Maybe a nice, hot coffee or a glass of sweet iced tea?"

"Orange juice, like Sammy's having." Dean answered, smiling at his little brother and all but ignoring the waitress.

"Sure." She said shortly, shooting Sam another look that was chock full of daggers. "Just like Sammy's." She said acidly, and Sam dropped his eyes and blushed.

Dean was instantly pissed. "Something wrong with the orange juice here?" he barked at the girl. "And that's Sam to you." He added, putting her in her place.

"Whatever." the girl uttered and strode angrily away.

"Thanks, Dean. Now she's going to spit in our drinks."

Dean grinned, "Nah, just mine, little bro." he leaned forward. "So, Dad's not gonna be back til next week, and it's summer vacation. What should we do today?"

Sam shrugged. "Dunno."

"What? You don't have a list all made out and alphabetized by the first letter of the last word?" Dean teased.

Sam suddenly looked hurt. "Why would I?" he muttered, looking out the window.

"Geez, Sam. I was just teasing. Unbunch your panties, why don't you?"

"Yeah Sam, unbunch your panties." The irritating waitress mocked him as she returned with their drinks. "Grow up a little, kid" she admonished him, setting his juice on the table. "Stop acting like a two-year-old."

Sam stared up at her in astonishment as she moved over to stand beside Dean and bumped his shoulder with her hip. "Right, Dean?"

Sam studied his brother, waiting for him to come to his defense, but when Dean suddenly smothered a chuckle and turned away, Sam lost his appetite. He slid wordlessly out of the booth and slipped out the door without sparing a glance back. He could hear the waitress tittering behind him.

He wandered across the parking lot of the diner, and his eyes settled on a park bench a few storefronts down. It was situated in front of the comic book store, and he strode purposefully down the strip mall and sat down, leaning back and closing his eyes.

God, Dean could be a jerk sometimes. It was a wonder Sam could stand him at all. Usually little things like that exchange back there didn't bother him that much. But then again, usually Dean had his back, unlike what had happened just minutes ago. Sam suddenly felt like crying, and he had no idea why.

Sitting there with his eyes closed, Sam heard someone exit the comic store behind him and stroll slowly past. He heard the person stop and come back. Then he felt them sit down beside him on the bench. Sam opened his eyes then and found himself being studied by a blond kid just about his own age.

"I'm Jeremy." The kid said, smiling. "You look like you could use a friend."

Sam shook his head and looked away. "I'm fine."

"Okay, man. Whatever." The boy said pleasantly, opening up his comic book and studying it. "I just came to get the new Beetle." He volunteered.

Sam was intrigued in spite of himself. "What's that?"

"Beetle? It's a series of comics put out by Beetle House. It's about all sorts of creepy demons and boogeymen and stuff."

Sam shuddered. Like he needed to read something like that for entertainment. He lived that shit everyday.

But Jeremy was persistent. "No, it's all good, man. They're exciting. See?" He held the book up for Sam's inspection. The cover showed some sort of monster with two heads and teeth like a shark sneaking up behind a teenaged couple on the street.

Sam just nodded, unimpressed. "Nice." He lied.

Jeremy shrugged, "Yeah, well. It beats the hell out of just hanging around the house watching tv all summer. Hey! You gonna be around long?"

Sam shook his head. "No. Not really."

Jeremy slumped, "Darn. Would have been nice to have someone to hang out with who was under a hundred."

Sam smiled at that.

Jeremy took that as encouragement. "So, you read comics much?"

"I like to read, but not comics."

"So what then?"

"Whatever I can get a hold of. But I like mysteries mostly, I guess."

Jeremy perked up. "Yeah? My dad sells those too. He runs the shop. Wanna take a look?"

Sam hesitated. If Dean came looking, he wouldn't be able to find Sam inside the comic book shop.

If he can tear himself away from Flo, Sam thought, standing up and smiling at his new friend.

"Sure." he said. "I got a few bucks."

So Sam let Jeremy lead him into the store. The blond boy pointed to a rack of books way in the back. "The mysteries and fiction and stuff, they're back there."

"Cool. Thanks." Sam said, heading deeper into the gloom as Jeremy approached the man behind the counter. "Hi Dad." He said.

The man smiled. "Hi son. Who's your friend?"

""Dunno. Hey, what's your name?" He called.

"Sam."

Jeremy's dad moved out from behind the counter and approached. "You looking for anything in particular, Sam?"

Sam shook his head. "No, not really." He said, crouching down to get a look at the books on the bottom rack. He caught his breath. "Oh! You have the Spaceport series!" He declared excitedly, pulling two books off the rack and leafing through them longingly. He looked up, "How much are they?"

Jeremy's dad smiled down at Sam's excitement. "Well, they're used, so I sell 'em for four dollars each."

"Really? But they're hardcovers." Sam couldn't believe his luck as the man just shrugged and smiled.

"Most people come in for the graphic novels. They're not too much interested in mysteries and such. It's good you found us, Sam."

Sam stood, brushing the dust off his knees. "I'll take these please, Sir."

The man's eyes lit up with that, and he laughed. "Well, you're polite for sure. But Mr. Rudy will do."

Sam nodded and handed the man the $8.00 plus tax. "Thanks, Mr. Rudy. Hey, maybe I'll be back in a day or two for another if you still have them."

"I think that's pretty much a given, Sam." the older man said. They've been back there for more than one dance already." He handed Sam his change and slipped the two books into a plain paper sack. "We'll see you next time then."

Jeremy grinned and followed Sam out. "So, I've never heard of the Spaceport Series. I take it they're pretty good?"

"Oh yeah!" Sam practically gushed. "They're set in a spaceport out west, and weird stuff always happens. There's this scientist, Gren, and his brother, Duke - he's the architect that designed the port, and they have to figure out what's going on before anyone else gets hurt. They're really good."

"Oh yeah? Hey, maybe you can let me borrow one when you're done, and I'll let your read my Beetles?"

Sam smiled, "Sure." He said, honestly glad that he'd met the boy whose dad owned the coolest bookstore on the strip. "Well, I should go. My brother's gonna be looking for me."

"Your brother? Not your mom or dad?"

"Nah, Dad works a lot." Sam answered, studiously avoiding the question about his mother. "It's mostly just me and Dean."

"Lucky!" Jeremy rolled his eyes and started back into the shop. "Well, see you around, Sam."

"Yeah, see you. Thanks!" Sam headed back the way he'd come.

Jeremy stepped back inside and watched through the window as Sam faded from sight. The older man approached him from behind the counter.

"Well? What'd you get?"

Jeremy sighed, "No parents. Just a brother - Dean. And they're not going to be in town for long. He doesn't carry much cash on him."

The man nodded. "Good. He's a nice-looking kid, Jeremy. You did good. If he works out, you get 10 percent of whatever he brings in. Sound good?"

"Sure, Mr. Rudy." Jeremy nodded, swallowing hard. In another life, he thought, Sam might have made a good friend.


	3. The Loneliest Brother

Dean was frantic. He'd expected Sam to be sitting stubbornly in the Impala, reading or brooding or some such shit.

But he wasn't.

Sam was hell and gone from the car, the diner, and anywhere else where Dean could find him.

And Dean was terrified.

All those years of Dad drilling into him how important it was to take care of Sammy, and he'd fucking lost him in fucking Bumfuck, Delaware. Even worse, Sam had stormed out of the diner leaving his jacket behind with his cell phone in the pocket so Dean couldn't even call him.

Dean had wandered up and down the strip mall twice, looking in windows and entering any stores that he thought might interest a moody, pissed-off teenager, but he'd had no luck.

No luck at all. And it had been over an hour. What if someone had pulled Sam into a van or something when the kid wasn't paying attention. Sam got like that, especially when he was pissed. And he'd been plenty pissed when he'd stormed out of the diner.

Dean had almost gone after him, but then he figured maybe Sam just needed a little space. Dean knew he could sure use some. Dealing with a teenage Sammy was never easy. Dealing with a teenage Sammy hopped up on hormones was a freaking nightmare.

Dean thought he might not survive this newest phase.

But then, all of a sudden, there was Sam. He was walking up through the strip mall with his face buried in a book. He carried a bag in his hand and was completely oblivious to anything going on around him.

That alone made Dean furious. Sam knew better than to lose himself like that out in public. The kid was so involved in the book that he stumbled right into Dean before he saw him. He looked up then, and grinned - happy excitement flowing off him in waves.

"Dean! You'll never guess what I fou …"

"Where. The. Hell. Were. You?"

Sam took a step back. "Wha - what?"

"You heard me. Where the hell were you? I've been looking for you for over an hour!" Dean was pissed.

"I'm sorry. I got caught up looking at books and …"

"Nice, Sam!"

"What?"

"You were looking at books? You were looking at books, and I was fucking losing my mind! You didn't even take your fucking phone!"

Suddenly, Sam was angry. "Oh, like you even noticed I was gone! How was she Dean? Did you do her in the bathroom stall? I have the feeling she gets that a lot!"

Dean's eyes flashed, "You miserable little ... Maybe I did, Sammy. Hunh? What do think of that? Maybe I did shove her up against the wall and fuck her til she was moaning my name. What's it to you anyway? Why do you care?"

Sam meant to make a flippant reply, but suddenly, to his horrifying embarrassment, his eyes filled with tears. He just stood there, looking at Dean, unable to form words, and feeling like he'd lost his best friend in the whole world.

"Well …" Sam managed to huff, 'I - I hope she had fucking VD!" And he stomped away, stuffing his lanky frame into the Impala and almost slamming the door.

Dean just stood there, fuming and feeling like an ass at the same time. Were those … tears … he'd just witnessed in Sam's eyes?

Dean suddenly felt like the biggest jerk in the history of jerks. He knew he should probably apologize, but he was still too pissed. Maybe they both just needed some time to cool off.

So he climbed behind the wheel and handed Sam a foam container. "Got yours to go." He said shortly, pointing the Impala back to the motel.

Sam just took the container and held it in his lap, saying nothing. He stared out the window for the entire ten-minute drive.

When they pulled up in front of room number 17, Sam climbed immediately out, unlocked the door and slipped inside, closing it behind him.

Dean sat in the car, thinking. This was the shitty part about sharing a motel room - you couldn't get any space from each other when you really needed it.

And right now, Dean really needed some space. He put the car back in gear and pulled away, heading back down the way they'd come. He'd seen a store a few miles back, and they needed to restock the med kit and the laundry supplies. He'd run a few errands and then he'd head back. Hopefully, by that time both he and Sam would have had time to work off a little stress.

###

Sam rose to look out the window when he heard the Impala pull away. He sighed and placed the salt line in front of the door. Then he placed his omelet and hash browns in the microwave and pulled out his new books.

And he smiled. Even when he felt his loneliest - and that was quite often of late - books had always been his friends.

And that got him thinking about Jeremy. He seemed like a cool kid. Sam sort of wished he'd gotten his phone number or email or something. He thought about Jeremy's fascination with monsters and caught himself grinning when he thought how cool it would be if he could clue the boy in to a few of his own adventures - if they could become best friends and he could take Jeremy on a hunt sometime.

And wouldn't that freak Dad out?

Wouldn't that be something? Talking to someone his own age about things they had in common?

Sam couldn't even imagine it.

Then he had an idea. It was a long shot, but what the hell? He pulled out his laptop and looked up the comic book store. Sure enough, they had a website and a "Contact Us" link.

Before he'd had much time to think about it, he'd sent an email asking if Jeremy could send his contact information.

And surprisingly, he got an almost immediate reply.

"Hi Sam."

"Hi. Is this Jeremy?"

"Yeah. This is cool, man. I'm glad you emailed."

"Is this a good time? Can you talk?"

"Hell yeah. Dad's got the granny brigade here, looking for books on local history. Just kill me now. Please. Hey. You got unlimited text? Be a lot faster."

"Yeah. I'm at 303-555-2231."

"Cool. Texting you now, dude."

Jeremy: "So cool. This is much better."

Sam: "So, how's the Beetle?"

Jeremy: "So good. You'd love it. You know anything about werewolves?"

Sam: "A little."

Jeremy: "Well, I always thought you needed a silver bullet. But the one in Beetle is a hybrid. You gotta shoot it with a silver bullet first and then cut its head off."

Sam: "Yeah, That's total bullshit. A bullet is all it takes."

Jeremy: "I know, right? They're cheating. So, you just passing through or what?"

Sam: "Yeah. Following Dad's job. We'll be moving on soon."

Jeremy: "That kind of sucks. You do that a lot?"

Sam: "Yeah. All the time. School is kinda hard. Being the new kid every other month and all."

Jeremy: "Well, if you get a chance, stop back by the shop before you go. Maybe we could go grab a pizza or something?"

Sam heard the distinctive roar of the Impala.

Sam: "Gotta go. My brother's home."

Jeremy: "Okay Dude, Cya.

Sam: "Later."

Sam tossed his phone on the nightstand and retrieved his food from the microwave. He sat down at the table and took a bite of omelette. It was surprisingly good. Suddenly Sam felt a bit better. The conversation with Jeremy, the new books, the good food - all of it was putting him in a better mood, and when Dean stepped inside, Sam's anger was mostly gone.

Dean's wasn't, however.

"You need help with bags?" Sam asked.

"Nope." Dean said shortly.

"Dean …"

"Shut it, Sam. Just give me some space, okay?" Dean occupied himself refilling the med kit.

Sam fell silent. Suddenly his omelet didn't taste so good anymore, and he ended up throwing most of it in the trash. Then he moved to flop on his bed and open up his new book. He sighed. If only books were humans, he thought. Then he'd never have to feel all alone ever again.


	4. Trusting Strangers

"You going out?" Sam asked as Dean emerged from the shower. Sam was fiending to get out of the motel room where he'd been trapped all day with a silent Dean. Even sitting at a table, sipping a soda, beat spending one more hour trapped with just the voices inside his own head.

Dean nodded. "Yeah, running low on cash. Gotta top up."

Sam knew this meant running the pool tables at the bar down the street. He sat up hopefully. "Can I come too? Be nice to get out of this room for an hour or two."

Dean turned away, making a big deal out of rummaging in his bag for clothes. "Not this time, Sam." He said shortly.

The younger boy tried to keep the disappointment out of his voice, "Why not? I won't bother you. I'll just sit at a table and read or something."

Dean knew Sam wouldn't bother him when he was hustling pool. He'd just sit there quietly judging everyone Dean talked to, looked at, or flirted with. And tonight, the older boy just didn't have the energy to tiptoe.

"Because, Sam," He started, more roughly than he'd intended. "I need to concentrate, okay? We're seriously low on cash. I can't be babysitting your ass tonight."

Sam thought about this for a moment, and then came up with an alternative plan. "Maybe I could help?" he offered

Dean snorted, "Help how? You're freaking 14."

Now that Sam had generated the idea, he couldn't let it go. He hopped excitedly to his feet. "I don't know. Maybe I could be a plant or something. I could beat you in the first game, and then everyone would think you were lousy at pool, and they'd all wanna play you?"

Dean turned to face his brother, amusement in his eyes. "You? Beat me at pool?"

Sam tried to hide the hurt at his brother's sarcastic tone. He hated it when Dean got like this. "It would just be pretend, you know. I know I could never really play good enough to beat you."

"Damn straight you couldn't." Dean agreed, "And letting everyone see a freaking kid beat me wouldn't help anything anyway. They'd just all stand back and laugh."

"Oh." Sam said simply, sitting back down. He was hesitant to mention his plan B, but desperation and the thought of spending another six hours alone spurred him on.

"Maybe … maybe you could teach me to play anyway?" He asked, eyes pleading. "It'd be fun to learn? Could come in handy down the road, right?"

At that, Dean exploded. "I just told you I don't have the time right now to babysit you, Sam. Dammit, I'm not your freaking mother!"

And that was all it took to suck all the light out of Sam's world. No, Dean wasn't Sam's mother. The younger boy had never really had that particular pleasure. Sam blinked back tears for the third time that day, but to his disgust, a small, surprised whimper escaped before he could smother it. He whirled around in embarrassment and hurt and fled to the only place where an angsty Winchester could ever suffer in private - the bathroom. He closed the door gently behind him, and snicked the lock into place.

And left Dean standing in the middle of the room, breathing heavily and feeling like a dick.

Again.

The older boy sunk down on the nearest bed and ran an exasperated hand through his hair. This being stuck together at the hip thing was new, and it was driving Dean insane. Sam had never minded being on his own before. In fact, it was usually Dean who had to coax Sam to come out with him when he made his nightly forays to the local establishments. Dean knew he shouldn't have said what he did about Mom. That had been low, even for him. But dammit, he just needed room to breathe. Why couldn't Sam understand that?

He sighed and stood up. "I'll be back later, Sam." He called, heading for the door. "Salt up behind me."

###

As soon as he heard the front door close, Sam emerged from hiding. He moved to fix the salt line, and then he fell back onto the bed where he'd spent the better part of this miserable day. He glanced at the clock. It was only a little after 6 pm. He knew Dean wouldn't be back until the bars closed at 2:00. That left eight hours alone to entertain himself.

Eight freaking hours. And he'd already been entertaining himself for the better part of the day, anyway, Sam was thinking when his phone beeped.

Thinking it was Dean texting him to apologize, Sam checked his messages. To his surprise, it was Jeremy.

 _Jeremy: "Hey Sam. Dad's taking me for pizza. Wanna come?"_

Sam's eyes lit up, but he knew he had no way to get to the comic place. He texted back.

 _Sam: "Got no wheels."_

 _Jeremy: "Dad says we can come pick you up. Where are you?"_

 _Sam: "Convenience Inn?"_

 _Jeremy: "Oh cool. That's just right up the road. You ready now?"_

 _Sam: "Yeah, sure. I got no money though."_

 _Jeremy: "It's cool. Dad's treating. See you in 15."_

 _Sam: "Okay. Thanks."_

Sam hurried to the bathroom and splashed water on his face, hoping it wouldn't be evident that he'd just been crying. He ran a comb through his hair and changed his shirt and was ready when Jeremy and Mr. Rudy pulled up in a burgundy-colored Monte Carlo. He slipped outside and locked the door.

And when Jeremy hopped out and slid into the back seat, Sam followed right behind him.


	5. Propositioned

Dean stepped inside the dark bar and smiled. These small dives in towns all across the country were his homes-away-from-home. He could relax here. These were his people, and he felt sort of like their king. He knew he could out-play, out-cool, out-flirt any other man in the joint.

And that knowledge was empowering.

He seated himself comfortably at the bar, situated in such a way that he had a bird's eye view of the pool tables. It looked promising. The place was hopping, and both tables were currently full. Dean ordered a beer and relaxed for the first time in days.

But then the guilt swept in. It came fast and heavy, and suddenly Dean pictured his little brother alone and bored out of his mind back at the motel.

Damn, he was such a dick sometimes.

He knew Sammy couldn't help these clingy, needy feelings that were suddenly a part of him. Hell, the poor kid was probably more confused by them than Dean was. But he was still pissed at the way the kid had taken off and just left him this morning. And suddenly, the irony of it all dawned on him. He kept telling Sam he needed space, and the first time the kid obliged, he gave him hell for it.

Was still punishing him, in fact. He knew how desperate Sam had been to go somewhere, to get out of the hated motel room for just an hour or two, and Dean had even denied him that.

He should at least call and try to make the kid feel better.

But he couldn't bring himself to do it.

Instead, he downed his beer and slipped down from his stool. Tonight was his night to howl. There was no little brother to feel guilty about hurting, no Dad to worry about. And Dean was determined to make the most of it. He winked at the pretty blond by the jukebox as he made his way to the closest pool table.

###

Sam was having more fun than he'd had in … well … forever. Sitting in a cozy booth in the pizza place was having a favorable effect on him. The place Mr. Rudy had picked was really nice - not your average pizza joint by far. Best of all, it had an amazing salad bar with vegetables and sides that Sam had never even heard of. He was determined to try them all.

"This is amazing. Thanks again, Mr. Rudy." Sam offered, as he returned to their booth with a plate piled high with salad fixings.

The older man smiled. "You're welcome, Sam. I see you like salad."

Sam nodded, popping a cucumber into his mouth.

Jeremy chuckled, "You're the only kid I ever saw come here for the salad." He said, taking a bite of gooey pizza and using his finger to twine a long string of cheese up to his mouth and pop it in.

"Well, the pizza looks good too." Sam added, eyeing the extra-large delicacy that took up most of their table. He couldn't wait to snag a piece.

"So," Mr. Rudy asked nonchalantly, "You know, your brother was welcome to come along too, Sam."

"He's working."

"Oh, he works nights?"

"Sometimes." Sam shrugged.

The older man's eyes narrowed, "You're on your own a lot, aren't you, son?" He asked.

Sam sighed. "Dad works a lot. Mom's … gone. Dean has to work too. I wish I could find a job to help out, but I'm only 14. No one will hire me."

Jeremy and the man exchanged looks, and the man nodded slightly.

"Well … I'm fourteen, Sam. And I have a job." he piped up.

Sam looked surprised, "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Make good money too." Jeremy slipped his wallet out of his pocket and showed Sam a stack of twenties.

Sam's eyes widened. He stared at the blond boy. "Where'd you get all that?"

Jeremy shrugged. "It's really easy. You just go on dates."

Sam stared, a small, strange niggle of doubt starting far in the back of his mind. "Dates?"

"Sure. Not everyone is as cute as you and me, Sam." Jeremy laughed. "Some people, well … they have trouble getting dates. We help 'em out is all."

"Help, like how?"

"Well, like maybe they're feeling lonely, and they just want someone to talk to. I go to their hotel room, and we talk. It's easy."

Sam was feeling more doubtful by the minute. "Just talk?" he asked, suspiciously.

"Well, I mean, sometimes they want more. Sometimes they wanna kiss and stuff, but it's totally up to you if you want to do that. You get to pick."

Sam thought about this. "So you mean lonely ladies call and want to talk, and you go and talk to them and they pay you?"

"No, not ladies, Sam. Guys."

Sam's eyes flew open. "You kiss guys?"

Jeremy shrugged. "Sure. Why not? Didn't you ever see a guy you thought was cute and wonder what it would be like to kiss him?"

Suddenly Sam had an image in his mind of … Dean … of all people. What the hell? He shook his head vehemently. "Uh uh. No way, man."

Jeremy snickered. "Sure you haven't."

"I really haven't." Sam was beginning to feel defensive.

"Jeremy." Mr. Rudy cautioned. "I think you're making Sam uncomfortable.

"Sorry, man. We can talk about something else. You should think about it though, Sam. There's a whole network of people who do it. No matter where you're at, what city you're staying in, there's always work. You could really help your dad and brother out. All you need is a phone to take the work orders. Sometimes, they'll even come to you if you don't have a ride. It's easy money. Gives you a chance to meet new people all the time too. You'd never have to worry about being lonely. You could take the orders where the guy takes you to a nice restaurant or a movie first."

Sam shook his head. "I don't think so."

"Okay. It's cool man. Just thought I'd offer. Hey, when you're done there, let's hit the video games in the back!"


	6. A Big Brother's Help

Dean was drunk, like really, really drunk. He usually didn't let himself get this smashed, but damn it felt good to let loose for a change. He gave the little blond a goodnight kiss as she dropped him off in front of the motel, and waved drunkenly as she pulled away. He fumbled for his key and got the door open eventually, surprised to see Sam still awake and sitting on his bed.

"Heeey, Sammmmy." Dean grinned crookedly. "Why you still up?"

Sam looked up and frowned. "You're drunk, Dean."

"Yep. Sure am, Sammy. Feels good." he snorted.

Sam sighed and got up to close and lock the door behind his brother. He reconfigured the salt line that Dean had destroyed.

"You need help?" Sam asked.

Dean plopped down on the bed. "Boots." he slurred.

Sam reached down and tugged his brother's boots off. He lined them up at the bottom of the bed and moved to sit on the edge of his own mattress.

"Hey Sammy?"

"Hunh?"

"I'm sorry I didn't take you along tonight, bro. I just … I just wanted some space, you know?"

"Yeah, Dean. I know. You've told me at least fifty times today."

Dean looked sad. "I did? That was pissy of me."

Sam snorted. "It's okay, Dean. I'll leave you alone if that's what you want."

Dean sat up, looking mournful. "It's really not, Sammy. I don't want you to leave me alone. I know you're going through some tough stuff."

Sam's eyes narrowed. "What kind of stuff?"

Dean waved his hand, "You know … teenage stuff. Feelings and shit."

Sam stared. "Am not."

Dean chuckled, "Oh, trust me little bro. You are."

"What the hell are you talking about, Dean?"

Dean sighed. "You know, crushes and shit."

"I don't have a crush. Who would I have a crush on? I never see anyone but you and Dad?"

"Exactly. That's why you have to ignore it, Sam. I know it's hard," Dean chuckled at that, "But you gotta."

Sam stared at his brother like he'd lost his mind. "Go to sleep, Dean. You're drunk."

"No, Sam. Listen to me. You can talk to me. You know. If you need to. I remember what it was like to be 14."

Sam sat on the edge of his bed and studied his brother. Dean would never remember this conversation in the morning.

So what the hell?

"Oh. Okay. Um. So Dean?"

"What little bro?"

"Can I - can I ask you something?"

"Yep. Anything."

"You, uh. You ever … kiss … a guy?" Sam blushed.

It took a moment for the words to penetrate the fog that was Dean's mind, but suddenly the older boy realized the importance of this question, and how much depended on his answer. His little brother needed him right now, and he'd be damned if he'd screw it up - drunk or not. He sat up straighter and looked Sam square in the eye.

"Not my thing, Sammy. But …"

"But what?"

"Well, I mean, there's nothing wrong with that. If you're having those feelings, Sam. It's perfectly okay. You know what I mean? I like girls, but maybe you like guys. And if you do, that's cool."

Sam stared. "Well, I don't think I like guys. I was just wondering what it's like to kiss one."

"Oh, well. I can't help you there, Sammy. Sorry."

Sam nodded. "Well, did you ever hear of people who … date other people for money?"

Dean stared. Where the hell was Sam going with this? "Yeah, I think so. Define "date" though."

"Someone who comes to your hotel room and talks to you if you're lonely. And if you want to kiss and … stuff. They do that too. Ever heard of something like that?"

"Well, by "stuff," do you mean sex?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

"That's an escort, Sam."

"An escort?"

"Yeah. Sometimes people hire escorts to accompany them to functions and stuff, or to talk, or to have sex in their hotel rooms. Why are you asking me this?" Dean was suddenly wondering if he should be concerned, and he cursed that last beer that had pushed him over the edge. Of all times for Sam to pick to want to have a heavy conversation.

Sam backpedaled. Suddenly Dean seemed a lot more sober than he had just moments ago. "Uh, it was on a movie I watched tonight. I'd just never heard of it, is all."

Dean relaxed. A movie. It was just a movie.

"Hey, Dean?"

Dean stretched back out on his bed, "Yeah?"

"Is … uh … is sex … that big a deal?"

The older boy grimaced and sat back up. "Sam, have you met someone? Is that what this is about?" He thought about those missing minutes back at the diner.

"No. I was just wondering."

"Well, I mean … yeah. If it's your first time. It's a big deal, Sammy."

"So … does it hurt … or anything?"

"Depends which side you're on, I guess." Dean answered, "But for guys? Not usually. For the girl, yes."

"But what about two guys? I mean, would that hurt?"

Dean stared. He was definitely going to have to put a block on the cable channels. "That, Sam, would probably hurt like a bitch, I'm guessing."

"Oh."

"What are you planning, Sam? I mean, should I be concerned here?"

"What? I'm not planning anything, Dean. I just … just saw it on tv and got curious is all."

Dean stared. He wasn't buying it.

"Hey Dean?"

"What Sam?"

"Did you ever wish you didn't have to hustle pool all the time? Or used stolen credit cards? Did you ever wish …"

"Wish what Sam?"

"Wish that you … you know … had more help. That it wasn't all on you all the time?"

"Well, more help is always a good thing. But I like hustling pool, Sam."

"But it would be kind of a relief if we had more money coming in, right? If you didn't have to be solely responsible for whether we ate or not?"

"Dad pitches in too, you know."

"I know. But not as much as you do. How much did you get tonight?"

Dean grinned, "Got $320 bucks." he said proudly.

Sam nodded. "But if you already had that much before you left tonight, would you have rather been doing something else?"

"I'm not following you, Sam."

Never mind. You answered my questions, I think. Thanks, Dean."

Uh, sure. I guess. Sammy, you sure you're okay?" Dean leaned forward and stared his brother in the eyes.

"Yep. I'm good Dean." Sam said, as though he'd just decided something. "Go to sleep, jerk."


	7. The Possibilities of Life

Jeremy's room above the comic book store was kinda crappy, Sam thought. For a kid who made a lot of money, he sure didn't spend it on room decor. But then, on closer inspection, the worst parts of the room were the ones that a kid couldn't do much about. There were three broken panes in the window that looked out over the street, and the walls were dirty and filled with strips of ancient wallpaper. It did look like Jeremy had tried to cover the worst of it though with movie posters. And he had a comfortable rug on the floor between the bed and the tumble-down bookcase that was just two boards stacked on cinder blocks.

Sam could totally relate to Jeremy's bedroom though. It sure beat some of the more rundown motels that Dad had checked them into.

And Jeremy's bed was awesome. It was covered with some kind of super-fluffy, thick comforter thing that was black and green and glowed in the dark.

Too cool. Sam wished he had a bed like this as he lay across it on his stomach, flipping through old copies of Jeremy's Beetles.

"So, pretty cool, hunh?" Jeremy grinned.

Sam looked up and grinned back. He held up the issue with the vampires that had mated with ghouls. "Hell yeah. Too creepy, man."

"Right? I'm telling you, Sam, you're missing out."

"Well, I might have to start reading these, I guess." Sam scoured the next page. "They don't follow the lore at all though."

Jeremy's eyes rolled, "Geez, Sam. Really?"

Sam grinned again, "Yeah, really. I mean, lore was written for a reason. You gotta go by the lore, or the rest is chaos."

Jeremy chuckled and moved to sit beside Sam on the bed. "You're pretty funny, you know. I wish you were sticking around for awhile."

"I might be, actually. Dad called today and said he won't be back for at least another week.

Jeremy's eyes lit up, "Hey! That's great! We got more time to hang."

"Yeah."

"So …"

"So?" Sam asked, looking up.

"So, you thought any more about working with me?"

Sam tossed the book down and sat up. "I have." He sighed. "I just don't think I'd have the courage to follow through with it. And if Dean ever found out, I'd have to just shoot myself and get it over with cause he would definitely end me."

Jeremy shrugged, "So we don't let him find out. He's gone a lot at night, right? That's always when the Johns want us."

Sam shuddered.

Jeremy saw. He shoulder-bumped Sam, "It's really not what it sounds like. I promise. These guys have been vetted real good before they ever get to us. It really is a nationwide program. Hell, most of 'em are repeat customers, and if they like you, then they ask for you personally, and give you tips."

That sounded intriguing. "Yeah? So, what's the most you ever made on a date?" Sam asked.

Jeremy thought, "Well, probably about $600."

Sam's eyes widened.

"But that was … you know … full service."

Sam stared and then looked away. He suddenly felt bad for Jeremy.

"So, can I ask you something?" He asked.

"Sure."

"Did it … uh … you know. Did it … hurt?"

Jeremy chewed his lip. "Full service hurts, yeah. But you don't have to sign on for that if you don't want to, Sam. You can just do the lightweight stuff."

Sam shook his head. "I don't think I could."

Both boys were silent, thinking about it. Then Jeremy spoke up. "I could go with you on your first job if you want? Might make it easier? We could just tell Dad we wanted a double. That's when the guy orders two dates at once."

Sam stared. "You mean your dad …?"

"Knows? Yeah. He works for the corporate office. Half of everything we make, we get to keep. The rest goes to Dad and he sends it into corporate."

Sam wasn't sure how he felt about that. But he had to admit, he was sort of curious. "So, when you do a double, I mean … what happens?"

Jeremy scooted back so his back was against the headboard and his feet straight out in front of him, and Sam followed suit. "Well, usually when somebody orders a double, they want to … you know … watch."

Sam thought about that. "Watch what?"

Jeremy snorted, "Watch us, Sam."

"Oh."

Jeremy waited.

"Watch us do what?"

The blond boy smiled, "Um, make out."

"What!" Sam squeaked.

Jeremy laughed. "What's the matter? You never kissed a boy before?"

Sam blushed. "Uh, no." Sam studied Jeremy. It's not that he wasn't cute. He was actually kind of gorgeous with his piercing blue eyes and long blond hair that he kept neatly quelled in a ponytail down his back. But Sam had just never … you know … thought much about that.

Jeremy studied him silently, "But you've kissed girls, right?"

Sam looked away and shook his head.

"Oh." Jeremy suddenly grew quiet. "You know, Sam, you might be right. Maybe this … uh … this isn't for you." He strode over to the window and looked out.

"Yeah." Sam said sadly.

Jeremy turned around at the sadness in Sam's voice. "You really don't have to do this, you know." He said kindly, returning to sit next to Sam on the bed. "Just because I'm cool with it doesn't mean you will be. Different strokes, Sam."

Sam studied his friend. "Was it hard for you at first?"

"You mean, was I scared?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah. I was. But you get over it. And the money is good. Better than we could make doing anything else."

"I guess."

Jeremy studied Sam as he sat on the edge of the bed, looking … defeated. "What scares you the most?"

Sam shrugged. "Dunno. I guess, maybe … that I won't know what to do."

"Oh. Well that's easy enough to remedy. You wanna learn?"

Sam eyed his new friend warily. "Uh, learn what?"

"Learn to kiss, Sam. Geez, what'd you think, dude?" He rolled his eyes.

Sam thought about this. "Um, I dunno. Maybe, I guess."

Jeremy smiled. "Well, okay then. Come here." And Jeremy scooted closer to Sam, joining him on the edge of the bed.

"Here, just let me do all the work, okay?" Jeremy said, staring into Sam's eyes. Damn, the kid looked terrified. "You don't have to be afraid of me, Sam. I promise. Okay?"

Sam nodded.

So Jeremy leaned in and cupped the back of Sam's neck with one hand. He placed his other on the boy's chest, leaning in and placing his lips over Sam's.

Sam just sort of sat there with his mouth closed, wondering what he should be doing and feeling a little foolish.

Jeremy pulled away. "That was good." He smiled. "You okay?"

Sam nodded.

"Okay, so this time, open your mouth a little, okay? I'll do the rest."

"S'okay." Sam breathed, wiping sweaty palms on his jeans.

Jeremy smiled again, "Damn, Sam. You're adorable." he said, smiling, and making Sam blush.

The blond boy leaned in again, and this time Sam opened his mouth to meet him.

Suddenly,Jeremy was exploring Sam's mouth with his tongue and sucking a little, and Sam thought he should be totally grossed out, but he wasn't. He wasn't at all. He made a small sound in the back of his throat.

Jeremy pulled away and gazed at Sam intently. "That okay?" He asked, carefully.

"Y-yeah." Sam replied shakily.

Jeremy placed a calming hand over Sam's unsteady one. "You're shaking." He said, concerned.

"No, I-I'm okay."

Jeremy smiled tenderly. "You're so beautiful, you know."

Sam blushed harder.

Jeremy sat back and grinned, "So now you want to hear a trade secret?"

"Sure."

"Okay, when you're kissing someone like that, and maybe it's not someone that you would normally be kissing, you know, if they weren't paying you. Like if you're not really into it, there's a way to make it better."

"How?"

"You just get this picture of somebody in your mind. Someone you think is really hot, or someone you've fantasized about kissing. You know, like some celebrity or maybe that guy Gren from your books or something. Think about someone you could really get into, and then pretend that you're having your first kiss with them. Makes it all better."

"Oh, okay."

"So you got someone?"

Sam did, but it wasn't Gren.

"Okay, now pretend you're all alone with him, and sharing your very first kiss. You ready?"

Sam nodded and leaned in.

And this time he pictured someone else entirely sitting there on the bed with him. He placed both of his hands gently on either side of his vision's face like he'd done so many times in his dreams, and he opened his mouth and caught the man's lower lip gently in his teeth and just started tentatively exploring. And before he was done, a small noise was wrenched from deep inside Jeremy as they parted.

The other boy couldn't catch his breath. He stared at Sam in shock. Then reality came back to him, and he smiled strangely. "Damn, Sammy. You learn fast."

Sam gazed back, wondering what the hell had just happened. "I … uh … yeah. I … gotta go." He stammered, "Dean's gonna be back to pick me up in a few minutes." He slid off the bed and stopped at the door to look back shyly.

"Uh, bye, Jeremy. Thanks."

"Bye, yourself, Sammy." The blond boy smiled, trying to restart his heart.

And Sam flew down the stairs to the comic book store and ran right into an older man wearing a suit and tie.

"Oh! Sorry Sir!" Sam apologized as he shot from the store.

When he was gone, the man in the suit and tie exchanged an amused look with Mr. Rudy, who chucked, "Sorry about that." he said, handing the man his change.

"Don't be." The man replied. "Best thing that's happened to me all day. Who was that lovely boy?"

"That's Sam."

"Sam." The man repeated. "He's one of yours?"

Mr. Rudy shook his head, 'Not yet."

The man sighed. "Pity. I'd pay premium for some time alone with that one." he replied, moving to the window and watching the boy slide into an old model black Chevy. "Yes, I surely would."


	8. A Desperate Decision

"You didn't buy anything?"

"Hunh?" Sam started, lost in the memory of what had just happened.

"You. You didn't find a book in all that time? I left you there for over an hour."

"Oh. No. I, uh, I was looking at the comics."

Dean grinned, "Comics?" He asked, approvingly. "Now those are books."

Sam snorted. "You would think so. It's the pictures, right?" he teased.

"Damn straight it's the pictures. Next best thing to porn."."

"How about you? You find anything?"

"Nah." Dean answered, running a hand through his hair. "Nobody's hiring."

"So when Dad called, did you tell him … I mean … does he know …?"

"What? That we're broke? Yep. Told me to handle it." the older boy replied tightly.

Sam huffed angrily.

"Look, don't start, okay? Dad's got other things on his mind right now."

"It's not fair, Dean." Sam snipped, looking out the window."

"What's not fair? That Princess Sammy doesn't have a room with a view? Get over it, Sam. I'll figure it out."

Sam turned to look at his brother, hurt showing in his eyes. "It's not fair that you have to go out all night every night. You're tired. I can tell. You need some rest, Dean."

Dean sighed, feeling guilty. "Look Sam, I'm fine, okay? It's just that these one-horse towns suck. They got one bar, and you clean up once and then you can't ever get any takers again. It's the same crowd every night."

"So … what's the plan?"

Dean grinned, "Gonna hit the next town over tonight. You wanna come? We'll probably be out til daylight. Make a night of it?"

Sam sat thinking. "Uh, no. That's okay. I think I'll hang back at the motel and read."

Dean nodded. "Okay, well don't go gettin' too attached. I strike out tonight, and we're out on our ears tomorrow."

Sam looked up, startled. "Then what?"

"Relax, Sam. We just find an abandoned house nearby. It's not like we haven't done it before."

Sam waited til Dean stepped outside later to text Jeremy. He'd made his decision.

 _Sam: "I'm ready to give it a try. A double, but not full service stuff. Tonight is good. I'll have the whole night."_

 _Jeremy: "Cool. I'll see if Dad has anything and text you back."_

 _Sam: "k"_

 _###_

"So Sam says he's ready to try, Mr. Rudy." Jeremy leaned on the corner of the glass counter.

"He is! That's great news! Good job, Jeremy."

Jeremy was quiet.

"Everything okay, son?"

"Yeah. We wanna go out together for his first time - a double. You got anything for tonight?"

"Matter of fact, I do. Got a special request especially for Sam."

Jeremy's eyes narrowed. "How'd someone request Sam? He wasn't working for you til three minutes ago."

"Mr. Lester was in today. He saw Sam leaving."

Jeremy gasped, 'No way! Not Mr. Lester! Not for Sam's first time!"

The older man smiled patiently. "Yes, way. He saw Sam. He wants some time alone with him."

Jeremy glared. "You said we weren't gonna work with him anymore after last time."

"Well, what can I say, son? He made me an offer too good to refuse."

"Yeah, I'm not your fucking son." Jeremy snarled. "And I'll be damned if that asshole is getting his filthy hands on Sammy."

The man took a step back. "Sammy, is it? You know the rules, Jeremy. No getting attached."

Jeremy shook his head. "I'm not letting him do it. I'll tell him you got nothing." Jeremy reached for his phone.

And Mr. Rudy reached under the counter for his .45. He held it to Jeremy's head. "You'll tell him exactly what I want you to tell him because if you don't, I'll kill you, take your phone, and then send him out anyway. That what you want?"

Jeremy stared at the older man, hate boiling in his chest. "So how much is that fucker paying for this debacle?"

"$1,000. You tell Sam he's got a cool $500 coming, and I'm betting he'll jump right in the limo."

Jeremy swallowed. "You don't understand. Sam's … never. Hell, he's never even kissed a girl." the blond boy begged. "Please don't make him do this."

The older man's eyes widened, "Really? Well that just upped the price somewhat. Thanks for sharing that with me, son." He ruffled Jeremy's hair. "Now get on there and tell Sam to be ready at 8:00. I'll send the limo to that seedy-assed motel, and you can go along if you want. You won't be paid though. That understood? Mr. Lester only requested Sam."

Jeremy felt sick, but he knew he was trapped. He knew Sam was trapped. He looked up at the man holding the gun, "Sam said no full service." He whispered, hoping Mr. Rudy would find a scrap of humanity somewhere in his hollow soul and honor Sam's wishes.

The man rolled his eyes and nodded. "Fine. This once. But after tonight, no more kid gloves. You got that? Sam has way too much earning potential. Now send the text and then hand over your phone. I won't have you warning the kid off."


	9. Reporting for Duty

"Here," Sam handed Dean a hot cup of coffee from the convenience store across the street. "I got this for you."

Dean finished towel-drying his hair and looked up, "Hunh?"

"Coffee. So you won't fall asleep driving."

Dean stared at the cup, a smile forming. "Damn, Sammy. You didn't have to do that." He shot his kid brother one of his million-watt smiles. "Thanks though. That'll hit the spot." He took the cup and raised it to his lips. "Mmm, just the way I like it."

"I know, black as tar and just as disgusting." Sam teased.

"Real man's coffee, Sammy." Dean winked.

"So, you gonna be okay, driving that far? You won't fall asleep, will you?" Sam asked, concern etching his features.

Dean snorted. "It's an hour in either direction. I think I'll be fine."

"I know. But you're tired. You should stay home and rest tonight."

Dean shook his head. "If I do okay tonight, I'll stay and hang out with you tomorrow night, that cool?"

Sam pouted, "I guess."

Dean studied his kid brother. "Hey, Sam?"

"Hunh?"

"What was all that about kissing boys and escorts and stuff the other night?"

Sam blushed to his toes, "You … uh … you remember that?"

Dean nodded, "Well, not right away, but eventually, yeah."

The younger shrugged, "Nothing. It was just a movie on cable, is all."

"You sure? Cause you know you can talk to me about anything, right?"

"Yeah. I know."

Dean sat down on the edge of the bed across from his brother. "Look, I know you been kinda lonely and all lately. You know, with Dad gone and me having to go out all the time. I promise, when we get over this hump, I'll make it up to you, okay?"

Sam shrugged. "It's okay. I'm not lonely. I just wish I could help out more, you know? And then you could stay home when you're tired."

Dean reached over and ruffled the younger boy's hair. Damn, he loved his selfless Sammy. "Well, I know for a fact that you help out more than any kid should have to, Sam. So you don't ever worry about that, okay?"

Sam suddenly looked serious. 'I am gonna find a way to pull my weight, Dean. I promise."

"You're a pain in the ass, Sam." Dean smiled, "But I guess I'll keep you anyway." He rose to gather his essentials. "Keep the door locked. Salt up behind me, and keep your phone charged, okay? I'll be home by morning."

"Geez, Dean. I know the routine, okay?" Sam bitch-faced.

"Yeah, I know you do. But humor me, bitch."

"Go on already, jerk."

But as Dean turned to leave, Sam suddenly shot up from the bed and attacked him with a bear hug. "Stay safe, Dean, okay?"

Dean was shocked into silence, but he hugged his brother back just as hard. "You sure you're okay, Sammy?" He asked, pulling away, and studying the younger boy.

Sam nodded, "Yeah, just … you know. Gonna miss you is all." he turned away, swiping at something on his face.

Dean's expression softened, "It's gonna get easier, little bro. I promise."

"Yeah. Get out already."

Dean chuckled. "Love you too, bitch."

###

Sam was ready when the limo arrived promptly at eight. He slipped silently into the backseat and was relieved to find Jeremy already there and waiting. He smiled nervously, but then Jeremy took his hand and held onto it, and that made things better.

"Nervous?" The blond boy asked.

"A little."

Jeremy studied his friend as the limo pulled away from the cheap motel. "Hey, Sammy?"

"Hunh?"

"Hey, uh. I'm sorry, man."

Sam was surprised. "For what?"

"For all of this. For getting you involved. I kinda wish I'd never seen you sitting on that park bench that day."

"Why?" Sam tried not to feel hurt.

Jeremy sighed, "Because you're better than all this, okay? Me, I kinda had no choice. But you got a brother and a dad who care about you." He suddenly turned to face Sam in the seat, desperation in his voice. "It's not too late, you know." He whispered so the driver wouldn't overhear. "You could still get out and run. I'll go up and keep the appointment. You run. Okay?"

Sam was confused, "No way. I'm not letting you go up alone. Why? What's he gonna do?" Sam was suddenly scared.

Jeremy looked away. "It's just … uh … it's going to get … intense tonight, is all. I've had dates with this guy and …" he stopped, unable to go on.

"And what? What's he want? Not … uh … not everything? Right?"

Jeremy looked at Sam sadly. "No, he doesn't ever want sex."

"Well, what then?"

"He kind of … well. He likes to hurt, Sam. He likes to hear us scream, I think."

Sam's eyes grew round like saucers.

"I'm so sorry, Sam! I told Da -, Mr. Rudy that I wouldn't let you go, but he made me send you that text. I didn't want you anywhere near this guy, Sam. I promise!"

Sam suddenly felt numb, "So, how does he hurt us? I mean, what's he gonna do?"

Jeremy looked away. "The last time he beat me up pretty good."

Sam breathed a sigh of relief. "You mean, like with his fists? Just an old-fashioned beat down?"

"Isn't that enough?"

Sam thought about it, "Well, yeah. I mean it sucks, I guess. But for $500, I can stand a beating. I'll just tell Dean I walked over to the store across the street and got mugged."

Jeremy stared, "Really?"

"Yeah. Honestly, I'm kind of relieved. I have kind of a high tolerance for that sort of thing." Sam said, thinking of all the beatings he'd taken from wendigos and ghosts and djinn through the years.

Jeremy's eyes narrowed, "Does Dean beat you, Sam?"

"What!" Sam squeaked. "Hell no! Dean would kick anyone's ass who touched me like that."

"Well, good. He better not." Jeremy vowed, looking away. "We're almost there. I'll go first okay? Then maybe I'll wear him out a bit before he gets to you."

Sam looked over at his friend. "We'll go together. We can keep each other strong that way." He smiled. "A kiss for luck?" He asked, winking.

Jeremy's eyes lit up and he nodded as Sam leaned in and took his face in both hands. And this time, Sam didn't picture anyone but Jeremy.


	10. Beaten

Dean could not believe his horrible luck. He'd never had such a bad run of luck in his whole life. He'd driven an hour to find a bar with a pool table and some easy marks, and when he got there, the damned place had burned down two nights before.

And of course, it was the only game in town.

He'd driven around for an hour or two, trying to form a plan B. But it was no use. This town was even worse than the one he'd just left. So Dean sighed and turned the car around for home. At least he'd finally get a night in with Sam. They could eat up the last of the microwave popcorn and watch a crap movie on TV.

He'd think about tomorrow when it arrived.

But when Dean snicked the lock open on the motel room door, only blackness greeted him. Fear gripped him instantly. Sammy never slept alone in complete blackness. He always left the bathroom light on with the door pulled mostly closed.

Sam hated to be alone in the dark.

Dean pulled the gun from the back of his jeans and flicked on the light, but nothing looked out of place.

Well, if you didn't count the fact that his kid brother wasn't there.

Dean made a quick inventory of the neat room and noticed his brother's jacket, boots and phone missing.

Then he saw the note propped up on Sam's bed.

" _Dean,_

 _If you're reading this, then I guess you got back before I did. Please don't be mad, but I found a job, and I'm gonna help out for a change. I'll be back by morning with enough to tide us over for a few more days. Also, breakfast is on me, big bro. Please don't worry about me. I'm fine._

 _Love,_

 _Sam"_

Dean felt everything that was good and light leave his life then because, suddenly, he knew where all those questions about kissing other guys and working as an escort and … holy shit … sex! Sam had asked him whether it hurt to have sex! He knew why his fourteen-year-old brother was so curious all of a sudden.

"Oh, I am so gonna end some useless motherfucker." Dean ranted, gagging on the images that filled his head. It was that fucking bookstore. Had to be. And Dean had dropped his baby brother off and left him there alone to do who knew what.

Dean sank down on his own mattress then and let the terrifying thoughts overwhelm him. He saw Sammy so trusting and happy, like he'd been that day in the parking lot with his new books. He'd shone like a beacon until Dean had cruelly cut him down. He saw his little brother riding shotgun in the Impala, making a face at Dean's music, but secretly enjoying it nonetheless. Sammy. Beside him. That's where the boy belonged - safely beside his brother where the perverts and the assholes of the world couldn't reach him.

That was Dean's job. His most important function in life, and he'd failed.

He'd failed because now Sammy was out there somewhere, having … stuff … done to him. And Dean knew it would change him forever. Even if Sam entered into that life willingly, you didn't just walk away unscathed from something like that. Sam was too young to understand, but Dean knew more about it than he'd ever admit.

He'd sworn that Sam would never, ever have to go that route. Ever.

And yet, here they were.

###

The two boys slipped on the matching forest-green hoodies that were the standard uniform for their organization, and stepped nervously out of the limo. They passed easily through the lobby and ignored the sneer from the security guard at the front desk. Jeremy was used to such treatment, but it was kind a shock to Sam. He put his head down and blushed as the two entered the elevator and pushed the button for the penthouse suite.

Jeremy looked over to smile encouragement and saw Sam looking embarrassed and broken and instantly knew the reason. He took the boy in his arms and hugged him soundly.

"Don't you ever let someone make you feel like this, Sam. You hear me? You're worth ten of that asshole." He said, planting a chaste kiss on Sam's forehead. "It's gonna be fine. Don't worry. I'll be right there beside you through the whole thing."

"I-I know." Sam hitched, damn, he was so nervous. It was hard to catch his breath.

And when the pair entered the luxurious penthouse suite on the top floor of the opulent hotel, Sam felt so out of place he just wanted to crawl away and hide. Never in his young life had he seen such wealth. The room was enormous, decorated with marble tile and expensive furniture, and a fire burning brightly in the fireplace, even though it was June outside. The two stood on the rug by the door until an older man approached them, smiling widely. He wore expensive jeans with a wide, leather belt and a tight gray tee shirt. He was slightly sweaty and winded, as though he'd just been working out.

"Jeremy! This is a pleasant surprise." The man smiled, shaking the blond boy's hand. "It's good to see you again."

"I … uh … Sam's new, so I came along …" he started to explain. But the man cut him off abruptly.

"Of course. Nothing wrong with that." He smiled indulgently and turned to face Sam. "So you're Sam."

"Uh, yes sir." Sam said, sticking out his hand.

The man took it and held it encased in both of his own. "I must say, Sam. Since the moment I saw you yesterday in that scruffy book store, I've been hoping we'd have a chance to spend some time together."

Sam studied the man in surprise. It was the guy he'd bumped into on his frantic run down the stairs the day before. Kind of weird, he thought.

"So." The man said, staring at Sam. "Do you know what's going to happen tonight, Sam?"

Sam glanced sideways at Jeremy and shook his head. "Uh, no sir. I don't."

The man laughed. "So polite! And I thought all kids these days were raised without manners. Guess I was wrong. And you can call me Douglas."

Sam nodded.

"Well, I have an equipment room in back. Let's go take a look, shall we?" He stepped aside to let both boys pass, but Jeremy remained stubbornly by the door, placing a hand on Sam's arm.

"First we get paid, Sam." He said, loudly.

Douglas laughed. "That's right you do." he said, reaching for his wallet in a side drawer of the sofa table. "Good catch, Jeremy. Here you go, Sam." He handed the boy the biggest wad of cash he'd ever seen. "You don't have to count it. It's all there. One thousand dollars, right?"

"Uh, yeah. Thanks." He stood holding the money awkwardly, looking to Jeremy for help. The blond boy suddenly slipped out of his shoes and nodded to Sam to do the same. "You can put it in your shoe and leave it here by the door. It'll be fine." He instructed.

Douglas watched the exchange in amusement, "You really are new to this, aren't you, Sam?" He asked. "That's freaking adorable, you know."

Sam blushed but remained silent.

"Is that a blush! Holy shit, Sam. I didn't think anyone blushed anymore." Douglas noted, motioning the boys forward. "Come this way, please."

And he led them both to a workout room that was filled with top-of-the-line equipment.

He stopped them in front of a rail that was mounted waist-high solidly to the wall. "I think this is probably here for the dancers who stay in this room." He chuckled, "but as soon as I saw it, I knew it had a better purpose." His smile changed then and became predatory. "Take of your shirts, Sam." He said.

Jeremy stepped forward as Sam began to comply. "I-I'll go first, Douglas." he volunteered, voice shaking.

But the man shook his head. "Sorry Jeremy. I paid for a hour with Sam, and that's what I plan to have. You can watch from over on the weight bench if you want."

Sam met Jeremy's eyes and the two exchanged nervous glances, as Jeremy moved to sit down.

Sam dropped his hoodie and his t-shirt on the floor and stood blushing.

But suddenly, Douglas was all business. "Lean on the barre." he instructed, re-positioning the boy to get him just the way he wanted him. Sam rested his hands on the smooth wood, his elbows locked and feet planted away from the wall. It was sort of a variation of a spread-em position that Sam had seen in all those late night cops shows, except he was bent further over, with his bare back fully exposed.

He heard Douglas unhooking his belt, heard the leather whisk angrily through the belt loops, and then his back exploded with a fiery pain like nothing he'd ever felt before. He felt the lash just an instant before he heard the sickening crack. Sam gasped in pain and vomited instantly.

Across the room, Jeremy jumped to his feet. "You didn't pay for a belting!" He cried.

"Shut up, boy." Douglas sneered as he brought the belt down again.

The second blow was so hard that it rocked Sam forward, cracking the top of his head into the mirror that ran the length of the room behind the barre. The glass shattered and Sam felt blood trickling along his hairline. He was going to pass out. He knew it. No way he could take much more of this.

"Crack!" The belt landed a third time, and then a fourth, and then a fifth. Sam took nine blows before falling to his knees, and when Douglas raised his hand a tenth time, Jeremy intervened by stepping in front of his friend.

"Please!" he begged. "He can't take anymore!"

"He'll take whatever I damn well feel like giving him!" Douglas snarled, turning the belt on the blond boy and catching him across the chest. Jeremy staggered back, his hand clutched over his heart. He fell to his hands and knees as Douglas moved forward and lashed him a second time.

And with Jeremy's scream, Sam's fight instinct kicked in. He staggered to his feet and aimed a kidney punch at the man with the belt, catching him off guard and wresting a surprised scream from his curled lips.

But after that one punch, all hell broke loose for real. Douglas whirled on the injured Sam and forgot all restraint. And when Sam tried to fight back, Jeremy tried to warn him.

"No! Sam! Don't fight back! They like it when you fight back!"


	11. Calling Dean

Dean sat behind the wheel of the Impala and watched the sun come up. And he tried not to picture his brother lying somewhere bleeding and broken. He had no leads. Not one. He'd canvassed the motel and all he'd gotten for his trouble was the description of a long, black limousine that had picked up a dark-haired, teenage kid around 8 pm. No name on the side, no tag number.

And Dean cursed his luck. At 8 pm he'd been cruising aimlessly around a town that was an hour away from where he'd been needed - from where Sammy had needed him to be. If Dean had stayed in like his brother had asked, none of this would have happened, and the kid would be here now, his lanky butt parked in the passenger seat - his bedhead an untamed halo around his face.

Dean had called his kid brother's cell a hundred times, but Sam had it turned off. He'd turned off his GPS too. So the only plan Dean could come up with involved staking out the comic store until someone showed up in the morning.

And then, by God, somebody was going to hurt.

But then Dean's phone rang, and he looked, and it was Sam, and Dean's world changed forever.

"Sam! You okay?"

Sniffling sounds. Nothing else, just … sniffles. Somebody was crying.

"Sammy?" Dean's voice broke. "Talk to me! What's wrong?"

"Dean ..." Sam's voice sounding as broken as Dean had ever heard it.

Dean's eyes closed in fear, "I'm right here, bro. Where are you? I'm coming to get you."

More crying sounds - sobs this time. "We … we need help. I-I'm s-sorry, Dean. Please. We need help!"

"Tell me where, I'm in the car now!"

Sam was frantic now, not making sense, and Dean could almost taste the kid's fear and panic. "A-a b-bench. A bench near the corner of West and Robinson. W-we're down-downtown, I think. Dean, I …"

Dean was already peeling out of his parking space, heading in the general area where he thought the downtown district lay. "What Sammy? You what?"

Sam wailed then, "Dean, I - I hurt! It … it just h-hurts so bad!"

Tears leaked from Dean's eyes as he took in the words his brother was saying. Someone had hurt Sammy. They'd hurt him on Dean's watch, and it sounded really bad.

"Sammy," Dean struggled to talk, "Tell me what happened? Who hurt you? What did they do?"

Sam sounding ashamed, "I threw up, Dean. It hurt so bad. I thought I could take it til he was done, but he w-wouldn't st-stop! I tried to m-make him st-stop!"

"You tell me who, Sam. I mean it! I will end that bastard!"

"Please come! Please!" Sam sounded near hysteria, and Dean was afraid for him to be out on a strange street alone is his condition.

"Sam, listen to me, okay? Are you away from him? Do you need the cops?"

"No. No, we … we got out. We got out, but Jeremy … he lost his shoes. I - I think I left my sh-shirt too. We just ran. Dean. We h-had too. H-he had a belt, and he wouldn't st-stop h-hitting me."

Dean tried to swallow down the bile that rose in his throat. Some sick fuck had taken a belt to his baby brother. Dean swore someone was gonna die this day.

"Sammy … dammit." was all Dean managed to croak. "Listen, I'm almost there, okay? Just .. just try to calm down for me, okay? You don't want to attract a cop if you can help it."

More sniffles, but Sam sounded like he was calming a bit.

And then suddenly, Dean was pulling up to a commuter bench where two kids sat huddled pitifully together. He didn't recognize Sam at first - the kid was ensconced in a green hoodie that was two sizes too large for him. and he had the hood pulled up and as far forward as it would go. The other boy, Dean had never seen, but he wore the same hoodie and looked to be about Sam's age, and judging by the condition of his face, he'd been beaten half to hell. Both boys were barefoot, though Sam's boots sat beside him on the bench.

Dean screamed to a stop in front of both boys and barreled out of the car. He saw Sam struggling to rise from the bench, the blond boy trying to help. And then Dean was in front of Sam, wrapping arms tight around him and causing him to arch and cry out in pain.

"Oh shit, Sammy! I'm so sorry!" Dean croaked, stepping back and getting his first good look at his little brother since yesterday. He pushed the hoodie gently back and gasped, Sam had some kind of wide, red mark across his face where something, a belt Dean guessed, had hit him. The swipe stretched from ear to ear and just missed his left eye. The whole mess was red and puffy and swollen, and dried blood trickled from his nose and down from his hair. "Son of a bitch! I will so end that motherfucker, Sam!" he cried.

Sam sobbed, just skirting the edge of hysteria, "I'm sorry, Dean! I'm so sorry! I wanted to d-do this myself. I didn't w-want to get you involved!"

Dean wanted to rip into his brother right there for doing something this stupid, but he knew it wasn't the right time. Instead, he gently shushed his brother and wiped away his tears, careful not to touch the tender, damaged skin on his face. "It's okay, Sammy. We'll talk about that later. Where else did the bastard hurt you, hmm?"

Sam just stood there, his voice hitching, staring down at the ground in misery.

The other boy spoke up quietly, "His back." He said, voice breaking. "He made him lean over the railing, and then he belted him across his back."

Dean glanced over at the boy, noting the way his voice broke for Sam and how the boys held hands. But then he turned his attention back to his brother, stepping around behind him and lifting the hem of the hoodie gently.

Sam hissed and flinched, and Dean just stared. Sam's back looked like an expanse of raw meat. Dean thought it might be criss-crossed with marks, but the flesh was so torn and tangled and bleeding that he couldn't tell for sure. Sam looked every bit like he'd gone a round or two with a meat grinder.

When Dean didn't say anything, Sam feared the worst. "Dean?" he wailed. "Am I … am I gonna die?"

Dean stepped back around to look Sam in the eye. He pasted a smile on his white face. "No, Sammy. It's … it's bad, but we can take care of it. You hear me? You're not gonna die, little bro. Think you can stand to sit in the car?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah. I just .. I want to go home, Dean." His voice broke on Dean's name, and it was all the older boy could do not to pull him close again. Instead he opened the front door of the Impala and helped Sam situate himself inside. Sam slid over to the middle instantly, carefully avoiding leaning back and reached out a hand for Jeremy, pulling him inside. Dean closed the door behind them then, moved to the rear of the car, and vomited into the gutter.


	12. Explanations

"I wanna know everything, Sam. You tell me where this first started. I want the play-by-play, and don't you dare think about leaving shit out. You hear me?" Dean said, as he helped his brother shrug out of the green hoodie. Dean knelt behind the younger boy on the bed and studied his back, not even sure where to begin. He handed his brother two pills and a glass of water.

"Here, Sammy. Take these first. You're gonna need 'em." He ruffled the back of the boy's hair gently.

Sam nodded, 'Jeremy too, Dean. Please? He's hurt real bad." Sam turned suffering eyes on his big brother.

"Fine." Dean said shortly, shaking out two of the pills for the blond boy and handing them to him silently. He still wasn't sure how the boy factored into all this, but if he found out that he had something to do with hurting Sam, there'd be hell to pay.

Jeremy took the pills and washed them down with what was left in Sam's glass. "Thanks." He said softly.

"Don't mention it." Dean replied coldly, turning his attention back to Sam. He sighed, "Sammy, I'm sorry. This is gonna hurt like a bitch."

Sam shivered, "Can't hurt any worse than it does already, D-Dean. It's okay."

Dean fetched an ice bucket and filled it with warm soapy water and a few drops of peroxide, then he set about cleaning his brother's damaged back. Once the dried blood started coming off, Dean could see it wasn't nearly as bad as he'd first feared. Sam would need a few stitches here and there, but mostly it was just bad bruising, abrasion marks, and swelling. He sighed in relief.

"It's not as bad as I thought, Sammy. Just needs a few stitches."

Silence.

Dean peered around to gaze at Sam's face. "You with me, bro?"

Sam blinked sleepily and nodded. "Yeah."

Dean grinned, "Feeling better now?"

"Yeah."

Dean returned to his work. "So, you need to start talking, dude, seriously. How'd you get messed up in this crap?"

"I wanted to help out."

Dean sighed, 'Sammy …" He started.

"It's my fault." Jeremy stated flatly.

Dean's hands froze, mid-stitch. "What?" He asked, death in his voice.

"It was my idea. I got him into it."

"You better start talkin' kid, and I mean now."

"I found Sam sitting on the bench outside the comic store. I - I recruited him."

Dean stood up, eyes murderous, "Recruited him for who?"

Jeremy studied the floor, "For Mr. Rudy." He said softly, turning to Sam. "He-he's not really my dad, Sam."

"He's your pimp." Dean stated flatly.

Jeremy nodded. "He was my mom's boyfriend. He … we left … in the middle of the night when I was eight. He said she didn't want me anymore, and he had to take me someplace safe, or she was going to leave me with CPS."

"Jeremy …" Sam started, his eyes tearing up.

"Let me finish, Sam. Please?" The blond boy begged.

But Dean was done listening. "I think you've said enough, you little son-of-a-bitch. If you were an adult, I'd end your worthless ass. Get the hell out! Now!" He grabbed the boy by the front of his hoodie and propelled him toward the door.

"Dean! No!" Sam shot off the bed and latched onto his friend. "Please! Dean! Don't!"

Dean stopped and dropped the boy. "Why, Sam? Give me one good reason I shouldn't freakin' salt and burn this little bitch for gettin' you involved in this?"

"Because, Dean!" Sam pleaded.

"Because what, Sam!"

Sam stood in front of his brother, looking lost. "Because …" And he spun Jeremy around and placed a shaking hand on the back of his neck. He pulled the boy close and kissed him gently, ending with a desperate hug. He opened his eyes and gazed into the startled eyes of his brother. "Please, Dean? Please don't make him leave?"

Dean stared, mouth open, thinking that he'd never misjudged a situation so badly in his entire life. Sammy, his Sammy, liked this boy. He REALLY liked him. Liked him like THAT. And suddenly a wave of something that felt an awful lot like jealousy landed on him so hard it nearly drove him to his knees.

"Sammy," He croaked. "You - you're just confused about everything that's happened to you. This kid … Sammy, he's not your friend. He's your recruiter." Dean begged his brother to understand. "He got you into this mess. Got you hurt. Sam, this is all on him. You have to see that!"

But Sam didn't, "It wasn't like that, Dean. He tried to warn me off. He told me to get out of the car and run when we stopped, but I didn't, Dean. I wanted the money. And then later, when ... when D-douglas told me to lean over the barre, Jeremy tried to stop him. He tried to go first so he'd be tired out when he finally got to me. Dean! Jeremy threw himself in front of the belt when I couldn't take anymore and the guy was still beating me anyway. That's how he got hurt! He wasn't even supposed to be there tonight. It was my job. Jeremy just went along to help me get through it!"

"Sammy …"

"Listen, please listen to me." Sam was crying now. "I know I've been acting moody and … and just shitty lately, Dean. And I'm sorry. But I have a friend now. I finally have a friend, and … and I don't wanna lose him, Dean. You can't send him back there. You just can't." He sank down on the bed and buried his face in his hands, sobbing. Jeremy knelt beside him, a comforting hand on his bony knee.

And Dean stood looking down at them - two traumatized kids going through something he could understand. He remembered what it was like to be fourteen. He remembered how it felt to come back from a … from a job … like that. Dean had never had an experience as brutal as Sam had endured last night, but he'd had a few close calls. He'd never had anyone to share his misery with either. But he imagined if he had that a bond might have formed there. How could it not?

He sat down on the edge of the bed beside his brother, and petted his messy hair. Sam's hair was an entity unto itself on a good day, this morning it just looked … possessed. The thought made Dean smile, and he cleared his throat.

"Okay, listen to me, squirt. We're gonna talk about this later, alright? In the meantime, let's get you both cleaned up and stitched up and whatever else we need to do, okay?"

Sam looked up then, gratitude shining in his eyes. "You mean you won't send him away? He can stay?" he asked hopefully.

Dean nodded. "For now. At least until I hear the whole story, Sammy. I promise, he can stay. Although," Dean sighed, "We're gonna have to clear out of here ourselves in a few hours." Damn, of all the times to be dirt-poor broke.

But Sam's eyes lit up. "Wait!" He said, retrieving his boot from beside the door. He rummaged around inside and brought out the biggest wad of money Dean had ever seen. The older boy's eyes grew enormous.

"How much is that?" He barked.

"It-it's a thousand dollars, Dean. Five hundred of it is mine and Jeremy's to share."

But Jeremy shook his head. "No Sam. That's yours. I don't want half. I didn't expect to get paid anything for last night."

"Five hundred is yours? Who gets the other half?" Dean growled.

Sam looked at Jeremy, "Uh, Mr. Rudy, I guess."

Jeremy nodded. "He gets half of everything and sends it into corporate."

Dean sneered, "Corporate? Right. Gimme that, Sam."

As Sam handed him the money, Dean felt a wave of nausea swell over him. This was blood money. It was money that had been beaten out of his little brother's back, and he wanted nothing more than to toss it in the sink and set fire to it.

But Sam had endured so much to get it. He just couldn't disregard his contribution, no matter how sick or twisted or messed up it was. He leafed through the stack and sighed.

"Sam, this is your money. You … you earned it." Dean choked on the word. "Are you sure you wanna share this equally with your friend?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah Dean. He earned it too. He probably saved my life. I don't think Douglas was going to stop until Jeremy made him."

Dean stared at Jeremy and saw nothing but sadness and guilt in the boy's eyes. He slowly counted out $500 twice, and gave one stack to each boy.

"I'll let you have this on one condition. Listen up." Both boys looked expectantly at Dean. "Nothing goes to this Rudy guy. I'll take care of him. And this sick fucker Douglas too." He eyed Jeremy. "Do I have your word that you're done keeping company with this asshole? Cause if I find out you went back and gave him one penny of that, I'll be paying you a visit next. You got that?"

Jeremy's eyes were huge, but he nodded in agreement. Then he exchanged looks with Sam, and they both grinned.

Sam gave his money back to Dean. "Dean, I wanna pay for a bigger room, so Jeremy can stay until we figure something out, okay? And then I wanna buy us breakfast, and then I want you to stay in tonight and rest." He looked scared, like he was afraid Dean was going to refuse.

Dean's eyes filled instantly. Damn, this kid. Dean didn't know what he'd done to deserve a kid brother like Sammy, but he sure as hell didn't know what he'd do without him.

He could barely speak, but he knew Sam needed to hear the words. "Thanks, Sammy." He said, taking the money and trying not to heave. "Thank you, little bro."


	13. Yeah, About That

Sam was finally asleep, passed out on his bed face-down. Jeremy lay curled beside him. Dean had repaired the worst of the damage on both boys. Sam's back had taken 32 stitches, and the cut on his head had taken another three. Jeremy was in slightly better shape, but his back and even his chest had marks from the bastard's belt. Both boys' feet were scratched and cut from their mad, barefoot dash to safety, but it was nothing serious.

Dean really wanted to give into his emotions and take a little drive down to the comic store, but he knew he had to do this smart, otherwise, he might lose the chance to spend some quality time alone with Douglas.

And that was his top priority. He just had to figure out a way to gain access to a penthouse suite in a ritzy hotel. Dean knew places like that had high security.

But there had to be a way.

Dean was reaching for his jacket to go upgrade their room and buy breakfast, when he heard a ringtone he didn't recognize. Both boys stirred when Jeremy dug his phone out of his pocket and read the text. His face immediately blanched, and he glanced up at Dean with eyes like saucers.

Beside him, Sam felt the boy's turmoil. "What's wrong?" He asked, sleepily, not moving. "Jeremy, what is it?"

"Spill it." Dean barked, sharper than he'd intended. He still didn't trust the boy.

"Uh, it's ... Sam, it's Mr. Rudy."

Dean stepped over to Sam's side of the bed protectively. "What's the bastard want? He wondering where you are?"

"No. No. I mean, I don't always go straight home after a job. He's not worried about that."

Dean stared, "What then?"

"He, uh, he … Douglas called."

Sam shuddered so hard that Dean saw the bed shake. He knelt down beside his brother and placed a protective hand on his arm. "Easy, Sammy. You're safe now."

"Well?"

"He wants another date with Sam. Tonight."

Sam gasped, and Dean's eyes narrowed into slits. "Does he now? Ask him what it involves."

Jeremy blinked at Dean, but he set about texting back. The reply came a moment later. He glanced down at Sam sadly. "He wants full service, Sam."

Dean nodded. "That mean what I think it means?"

Jeremy nodded. "Sex. Nothing off the table."

Dean's emotions were on lock-down. He couldn't think of this animal with his innocent … He just couldn't. He smiled, "Nothing off the table, hunh? Ask him what it pays."

Sam sat up and looked down at the floor.

Jeremy sent the text and waited. A moment later, he had his answer. "Sixteen hundred. It pays sixteen hundred."

Dean was silent for a moment. "And he'll send the limo here? What time?" He didn't notice Sam blanch.

Jeremy swallowed hard and swiped at his eyes. He sent the text and read Dean the reply. 'Limo will be there at 8 pm."

Dean nodded, "Tell him it's a go. Sam will be ready at eight."

Jeremy stared at Dean like he wanted to say something but didn't have the courage.

"Well?" Dean barked. "Tell him!"

So the boy sent the text. Then he tossed the phone angrily to the side and crawled over to sit next to Sam, their legs touching. He picked up the boy's hand.

Dean stood up, looking satisfied. "Good. This is good." He grinned down at Sam and finally realized that the boy was shaking, and Dean was pretty sure that was a tear getting ready to roll down his face. He was back on his knees in front of the boy in an instant.

"Sammy, what's wrong? You starting to hurt again?"

Sam shook his head, the single tear escaping. Dean brushed it gently away. "What's wrong? Tell me, little bro."

"D-dean, what …"

Dean wasn't getting it. "What?"

"What if … what if I can't?" He asked, staring straight into his brother's eyes."

Dean was confused, but he thought maybe the drugs were making Sam loopy. "What if you can't what?" He asked gently.

Sam looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole and pull it closed behind him. "What if I can't have sex?" He whispered. "What if … if I can't, and he makes me anyway?" he stared down at the floor.

Dean still didn't get it. Then the light dawned, and he drew in a sharp breath.

"Holy shit, Sam!" Dean cried so explosively that both boys jumped. "You can't think I'd ever let you go near that bastard again?"

Sam's eyes were clenched tightly shut. All he'd heard was Dean's tone of voice and the fact that the older boy was angry with him. "I'm sorry!" He cried. "I'll try, Dean! I'll try if you want me to!"

"Dammit Sam!" Dean was too angry to be gentle with his brother. "You EVER go near that son-of-a-bitch again, and I'll kick your ass myself. You hear me?"

That got through. Sam looked up, meeting Dean's eyes. "But … but you said for me to be ready … to … to go when the limo gets here?"

This boy was going to be the death of him, Dean just knew it. He sighed. "Sammy, come on. You have to know I'd never let that happen, right? You know that."

"But … then why?"

"Because I need a way in." He glared over at Jeremy. "And this stays in this room. You hear me?"

The boy nodded, eyes wide.

Sam sniffed, "What? Why?"

"Because Douglas dies tonight. That's why. Nobody touches you like this, Sammy. Nobody gets to hurt you this badly and then just walk away. It's never been like that. You know that, right? Not as long as I have a breath left in me."

Sam got it, then, the medication making him slow. "Dean, no." he breathed. "You'll get hurt. He's … he's really strong."

Dean smiled, "He is, is he? Well let's see how strong he is when he's up against someone who's not a scared 14-year-old kid. Don't you worry, Sam. I'll be fine. Douglas though? I can't say the same for him."

###

The room had been upgraded, and Sam and Jeremy were happily entrenched in the newest action movie on cable, delivered pizza by their sides, when the limo pulled up exactly at 8 pm. The boy stepped outside, green hoodie pulled up and all the way forward. He climbed wordlessly into the backseat and pulled the door closed.

Twenty minutes later, he made his way through the lobby without incident, and punched the numbers for the top floor.

When he stepped into the penthouse, he stood slightly to the side, shoulders hunched a little forward, hands in the pockets of his jeans as the man approached. When the man closed the door behind him and turned to shake his hand, the boy's hands fell his belt bucket instead, which he quickly unhooked.

The look on the man's face was one of pleasant surprise. "A little anxious tonight, are we, Sam?" The boy just nodded, removing his shoes. "First, I get paid." the boy said, with a touch of fear in his voice.

And Douglas grinned, loving the way the boy's voice shook. "Certainly. Here you go." He handed over the money.

The boy placed the money carefully in his boot. Then he rose and whisked his belt through all the loops at once.

The man took a step back, the first niggle of uneasiness starting. "I see you're ready to learn everything I have to teach you tonight." He smiled. "I'm sorry, you know. But this is going to hurt a bit, Sam." He reached for the boy.

"Yeah. About that." Dean said, stepping back and lowering his hood. "Sam couldn't make it. I'm his big brother, Dean." He looped the notched end of the belt around his hand, letting the buckle sway free as he advanced on the man who now looked terrified. "I'm sorry, you know. But this is going to hurt a bit, Douglas."

And he went in swinging.


	14. Lost and Found

"Your brother's a badass."

Sam grinned, "I know." He tugged on a bite of pizza.

"He cares about you though." Jeremy said, and Sam heard a wistful tone in his voice.

Sam nodded, "He's always been there for me. Always. Back when Mom died, Dean was the one who carried me out of the burning house. And he was only four."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. And he's been carrying me ever since." Sam grew quiet. "I'm worried about him though."

Jeremy stretched out on the bed on his side next to Sam and smiled, "I'm sure he'll be okay. Sure would like to be there though to see Douglas get what's coming to him." He swallowed hard, "When … when he was … hurting you like that Sammy, I just … I wanted to …"

Sam smiled at his friend. "I know. I felt the same way when he started in on you."

A tear rolled down the blond boy's face. "It's all my fault, Sam. All those stitches and your poor, beautiful face. "I'm sorry. I'm just so sorry." He bowed his head.

"Hey!" Sam said, capturing the boy's hand in his own. "I wanted to do it, okay? This was my decision. You tried to warn me off, and I didn't listen. I'm not blaming you, okay? So stop blaming yourself."

Jeremy nodded.

"Hey," Sam repeated, forcing the other boy to look at him. "If you wanna talk … you know … about your mom, I'll listen?"

"Yeah?" Jeremy smiled sadly.

"Yeah." Sam repeated earnestly.

Jeremy's look grew far away. "She was a lot different before she met him, you know. Then everything changed."

"How did it change?" Sam prompted.

"She got … like she didn't care about anything. She just slept all the time, stopped going to church. Stop taking me to scouts … everything just sort of … stopped."

Sam nodded, "Do you think she was depressed?" He'd read about the symptoms of depression that time Dean had been in the leg cast for six weeks and had turned into someone else entirely.

Jeremy shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe. Sometimes I think maybe he drugged her."

Sam's eyes narrowed, "Why?"

Jeremy looked away, "Because he drugged me a few times, and that's how I felt. I don't know what he gave me, but I was out of it for days. Couldn't get my feet under me. Didn't care about anything but sleeping."

Sam's eyes filled with tears. "Why did he do that?"

Jeremy shook his head, "I can't really remember what all happened, I was so out of it, but I think … I think he had … people in."

Sam stared at his friend, understanding what he was too devastated to say. "I'm so sorry." He whispered.

Jeremy shrugged, "It's not a big deal. It's just been me and him for a few years now. I'm kind of used to it, you know?"

"So, did you ever try to look her up or call her or anything?"

The blond boy shook his head.

"Why not?"

"I guess because I sort of have this vision in my head that maybe she didn't want to lose me, that maybe she's out there right now looking. But I'm afraid if I look, then I'll find out she isn't and that he was telling the truth after all, and then …"

"And then what? You won't have hope anymore?"

"I think so."

Sam thought about that. "You know, I'm really good at research. If you want to know if she's looking, I bet I could find out?"

Jeremy gazed at his friend, "Yeah?"

Sam nodded, excitement beginning to paint his features. "You wanna?"

"I … I don't know, Sam."

"Hey," Sam sat up on the bed and pulled Jeremy into a sitting position with him, "You nervous?" He asked the same question Jeremy had asked him last night in the limo.

The blond boy nodded.

Sam smiled, "A kiss for luck?"

Jeremy suddenly grinned, "Hell, yeah."

So Sam leaned in and did.

When they parted, Sam smiled, "Better now?"

And this time it was Jeremy who blushed, "Always, Sammy. You're a really good kisser, you know. You learned fast."

Sam reached over and pulled his laptop into his lap, "I had a really good teacher." He grinned up at his friend. "So, we gonna do this?" He asked, fingers poised over the keys.

Jeremy bit his lip and nodded.

"Good. Okay, so first off, what's your real name?"

"Jeremy Evan Lydecker."

Sam entered the name into the search engine, and that's as far as he got. He clicked on the first result, and the missing poster popped up. There was a picture of a much younger Jeremy staring back at him. The boy in the photo was only eight years old, but he had Jeremy's same smile and his same kind, blue eyes. His hair was a lot more blond, and it was cut short, but Sam would have recognized him anywhere. He looked up at Jeremy, his eyes huge.

"What?" Jeremy asked, hesitantly. "What'd you find, Sammy?"

Sam turned the laptop around slowly so it faced his friend.

Jeremy's eyes fell on the page, and he sat stunned, mouth open. His eyes met Sam's. "She was looking for me." He breathed. "Sam … I … I was kidnapped?"

Sam nodded, his heart breaking. He pulled the laptop back around and read the text.

"Jeremy Evan Lydecker, age 8, was abducted from his home on March 11, 1991. He may be traveling with an adult male, Allen Wilton Rudd. Jeremy is 4' 7" tall and weighs 57 pounds. Anyone with information is asked to call 1-800-555-3239."

Sam looked up. There's a picture of Mr. Rudy too. I guess his real name is Allen.

Jeremy looked stunned. "I guess so."

Sam pushed the laptop aside and pulled the blond boy into a gentle embrace, careful of both their wounds. "It's gonna be okay, you know?" He promised. "Dean will know what to do. When he comes back, we tell him, okay?"


	15. Douglas Meets Dean

Dean stared down at the broken man before him. He had begun meting out his justice in the main room of the luxurious penthouse suite, but as Douglas struggled to evade his attacker, they'd landed in the equipment room - fitting, Dean thought - as he recognized Sam's discarded shirt still lying in a heap next to the barre. He recognized it because it was his. Sam had a habit of snaking his big brother's clothes whenever he was feeling sick or hurt or scared, and the realization that he'd needed that extra security just told Dean exactly how hard it had been for his little brother to come here.

Dean noted the busted glass in the mirror that ran behind the railing. It was still stained with blood. He grasped the battered man by his hair and tugged his head up to face the spectacle.

"How'd that happen?" He barked.

Douglas tried to shake his head no, but Dean was persistent. He swung the belt deliberately in front of the cowering figure.

"I'll ask again. Whose blood is that, and how did it happen?"

"I … it was an accident."

Dean nodded, "Was it now? And just who had this accident?"

Silence.

Dean shook the man like a tiger worrying a piece of meat. "Whose blood is that?" He snarled.

"Sam's!" the terrified man choked out. "It's Sam's, okay!"

Dean gritted his teeth. "No, you miserable fuck. It's not okay. How did my baby brother come to bleed all over your mirror?"

"I … he … he fell into it."

Dean nodded. "Um hmm, and what were you doing when Sam just happened to fall?"

"He was leaning … leaning on the barre." The man couldn't seem to find the words to explain.

Dean helped him out. "Okay, so my baby brother - my 14-year-old baby brother - was leaning on your fucking barre with his shirt on the floor behind him, and you were doing what?" Dean wanted the fucking play-by-play of what went on this house of horrors.

Douglas swallowed hard and looked away, "I … I was hitting him with … with the belt."

Dean's emotions were locked down, or the man who cowered on the floor in front of him would have died instantly at that confession.

"Yeah, that doesn't explain the mirror, though, does it?"

"I hit him and … and he rocked forward. His head hit the glass."

Dean smiled coldly, "So wait, let me see if I understand this, Douglas. You made Sammy lean over this fucking rail, half-naked, then you beat him with a belt so hard that you propelled him forward and his head hit the glass hard enough to shatter it? That about right?"

Douglas nodded shakily.

Dean yanked him to his feet, "I wonder how much force that would take, Douglas? I think we should try and find out, don't you?"

The man's eyes grew big and he began pleading, "N-no, please … not more. I - I can't take anymore!"

Dean leaned in then and whispered to the man, "You'll take whatever I damn well feel like giving you, you miserable fuck." Unknowingly using the man's exact words against him. "Now lean over that fucking rail, lock those elbows and count 'em off. We ain't stopping til your head connects with that wall hard enough to break it."

Later, after Dean had engaged in a little talk with the man who'd hurt his brother, he'd left him lying unconscious in a pool of his own blood. The man wouldn't die, but he wouldn't be calling in any cops either. Dean had made sure of that by offering to come back if he caught so much as a whisper that Douglas had reported what had gone on here this night.

He was cleaned up and on his way out the door, when the sight of his shoes stopped him. Suddenly, he felt the urge to find the man's bedroom just to see if he'd left any clues about what he'd had planned for Sam this night.

And once he'd opened the door to the massive bedroom and approached the bed, he suddenly wished he hadn't. The assortment of devices that Douglas had laid out in anticipation of Sam's arrival couldn't even be called toys - they were more instruments of torture, designed to deny physical pleasure until it became pain.

The older boy stared down at the assortment in horror. This is the memory Sam would have always carried with him of his first time.

Dean burned them all.


	16. A Really Bad Idea

Allen Rudd twisted the key in the ancient lock of the book store door. He was pissed at Jeremy. It was almost midnight, and the boy still hadn't shown up to pay him for the new kid's last two assignments. These were one-hour gigs, after all. Sam should have been done by 9 pm. In fact, the little shit hadn't put in an appearance at all, and the man fully expected it was because he was shacked up somewhere with the shaggy-haired kid, probably pissed because the boy had gotten broken in in a big way. Rudd grinned. What he wouldn't have given to be a fly on the wall these past two nights. Sam really was a nice-looking boy, and just thinking about him made the older man's pants tighten up. He'd have to see if he had any of that Rohypnol left that he'd used on Jeremy those few times. He could just picture the tall, lanky boy all loose-limbed and helpless.

Damn.

Rudd stepped inside, leaving the closed sign in place and the shade pulled down. He tried to think of the name of that shitty motel. He was sure that's where the boys were shacked up. Dammit, what was it? He looked over his order book to see where he'd sent the limo. Convenience Inn. That was it. He reached under the counter and dug around until he found a bottle of pills with a few left in it. He held it up to the light. It should be just enough. He dug out four and separated them into two piles, then he crushed the piles in a mortar and opened two new water bottles. He sprinkled the powder into each bottle and closed them up again, Shaking them vigorously.

Then he stepped back outside and locked up, tossing the water bottles on the front seat and pointing his car in the direction of the Convenience Inn. Time to go collect what belonged to him.

###

Dean was in no mood to head right back to the boys he'd left behind at the motel. He needed a good, stiff drink first to settle his nerves. Then he'd go back and assume the role of big brother. But first, he'd call, just to make sure Sam was doing okay.

The younger boy picked up on the first ring. "Dean! You okay?" Sam's voice was all high-pitched and breathless like he got when he was worried or terrified.

"Yeah, Sammy. Calm down. It's all good." Dean pasted on his smoothest facade.

"Are you … are you in the car?"

"Yep. The job's all done. Just wanted to check in with you before I stop off for a drink. Everything okay there?"

"Yeah. We're good. Jeremy's asleep. I'm just reading."

"Uh hunh. You think maybe you should be getting some shut-eye yourself?"

"Couldn't Dean. Not til I knew if you were okay or not."

"Well, now you know, so go to bed, geek."

Sam snorted. "Okay, Dean. See you later. You sure you're okay? You're not lying are you?"

"Sammy, I am fine as wine. Now go to bed. I'll be back soon."

###

Rudd used his credit card to open up the rickety door to room 20. Thank goodness this place was cheap and rundown. It made his job much easier. The room was dim when he entered, lit only by the bathroom light shining behind a door half-closed. He saw Jeremy stretched out on the couch in the common area, and moved quietly past him. When he approached the open door to the bedroom, he saw two queen-sized beds and his target. Sam lay on his stomach, a bottle of pain pills on the nightstand next to him, and Rudd smiled. Both boys were already doped to the gills. This would be easier than he'd anticipated.

Rudd pushed the door quietly open and approached Sam, getting the first good look at his back. He whistled silently. "That had to hurt." He chuckled. He pushed the door quietly closed, then he knelt by the bed and opened up the first bottle of water, touching the boy lightly on the shoulder. The boy stirred and opened sluggish eyes to a dark room.

"Dean? You okay?" the boy asked, swaying a little.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Rudd answered quietly in his most concerned voice. "Here, Sammy, you need some water. Drink up." Rudd had heard Jeremy call the boy by this pet name, and he figured it would put him more at ease. Sure enough, the boy raised his head and sipped from the tipped-up bottle. He took just a few sips, then pulled back.

"That's not enough, Sammy. You need more." Rudd said hypnotically. "Gotta stay hydrated." He tipped the bottle back up and watched happily as Sam downed nearly half the bottle. "That's good. Good job, Sam."

"You okay?" Sam slurred again, blinking slowly.

"Yes. I'm fine. Now go to sleep."

Rudd waited a good ten minutes and then jostled Sam to judge his reaction. The boy was out of it, just the way Rudd liked them. He bent and gathered Sam up in his arms and stepped to the doorway. He opened the door and stepped quietly out into the common area, careful not to make any noise that might startle Jeremy. He was almost to the door with his prize, and his excitement was escalating, when the room door opened and the light flicked on.

Suddenly, a surprised Allen Rudd stood face to face with Dean Winchester.


	17. He's Mine

Dean's surprise lasted for only a split-second. That was how long it took for his eyes to sweep the spectacle in front of him - some fucker he'd never seen before cradling a sleeping Sam in his arms and heading for the front door.

Then his .45 was out and aimed at the asshole's head. He directed his words at Sam.

"Sammy? You okay?"

Sam didn't so much as stir, didn't even bat an eyelash. His head hung backward at a painful angle over the man's arm, his arms lifeless and limp. Hell, Dean wasn't sure he was even breathing. His gaze hardened.

"You better pray he's breathing, you fucker. Now put him down. Right there!" Dean gestured to the foot of the couch where Jeremy was suddenly awake. The boy gasped at the sight of Rudd holding onto Sam.

"What … what's happening?"

Rudd grimaced, refusing to move. But he shifted Sam higher in his arms as though trying to use him as a shield.

Dean's vision went dark. "Just give me a reason, bitch." he promised. "Just one."

"He's mine." Rudd stammered. "I bought and paid for him. He owes me."

Suddenly Dean couldn't stand one more minute of Sam being anywhere near this creature. He strode forward purposefully and placed the barrel of the gun directly on Rudd's temple. Never breaking eye contact with the man, Dean reached down with his left arm and lifted Sam's boneless body up and out of Rudd's grasp. Supporting the unconscious boy with one arm, he took a step back and lowered him to the couch where Jeremy caught him.

"Check his breathing!" Dean barked.

Jeremy placed his ear to Sam's chest and nodded. "He's okay."

"What'd you give him?" Dean growled, "And what were you planning, you sick fuck?"

Rudd smiled. "What do you think?"

"I think I wanna hear all the naughty details of what you planned to do with my KID brother once you got him past the door. Dean emphasized the word 'kid.' He would never understand the type of monsters who got off on hurting the innocent. "What's the matter? Can't get it up for an adult? Can't perform with someone who's willing? And for the future, however short yours may be, he's mine. Not yours."

Rudd shrugged, grinning ominously, "I wanted to see your KID brother, how should I say it? I wanted to see him loose as a goose. I couldn't stop thinking about him all …"

Dean brought the butt of his gun down on Rudd's head, falling him instantly. "I changed my mind. Shut the fuck up."

He turned to Jeremy, "In that bag, there's a coil of rope. I need it."

Jeremy complied instantly, bringing the rope to Dean who used it to truss Rudd up in a series of intricate knots that effectively disabled him. He placed a piece of duct tape over his mouth and tossed him carelessly into the bathtub, slamming the door behind him. He'd figure out a fitting end for the asshole later.

But first, Sammy.

Dean moved quickly to the couch and stretched his brother out so he could breathe more easily. Then he set about trying to wake him.

"Come on, Sammy, open those baby browns for me, buddy." He slapped his cheek gently. He turned to Jeremy, "Do you know what happened here?"

The boy's eyes were wide, but he just shook his head, "I'm sorry. I guess I was asleep the whole time."

Dean's eyes closed as he suddenly wondered how long the creep had been alone with Sam and what might have happened. "Hey kid," He addressed the boy who huddled anxiously over them. "Uh, go … go check Sam's bed for me. Tell me what you find?"

Jeremy's eyes met his for a moment, and Dean saw a sudden flash of fear there. Then the blond boy was gone. He was back moments later with a half-empty water bottle. It was a brand neither of them had seen before. He gave it to Dean.

"There's … there's no … blood or anything. I think he drugged the water and then made Sam drink it. He … he did that to me once or twice."

Dean's eyes narrowed. "What'd he put in it?"

Jeremy just shook his head, looking lost.

Dean studied his little brother. He was as out of it as Dean had ever seen him.

"What happened when he drugged you? I mean, how did you feel? Were you like this?" Dean gestured to Sam.

"Not that bad. I still knew sort of what was going on. I just couldn't do anything to stop it."

Dean looked away, understanding what had happened to the kid. He nodded. "Do you know if Sam took more painkillers before he went to bed?"

"Yeah, he did. He took one and gave me one. That was about three hours ago."

"Shit." Dean tried again, putting a little more force behind his slaps this time, "Come on, Sammy. If you don't wake up, it's the emergency room for you, kiddo. And you and I both know how much you hate that idea. Come on, Sam. Wake up. Please?"

Sam took a sudden, shuddering breath. His eyes opened sluggishly.

"There you are. Good job, buddy. Now look at me. Can you look at me, Sam?"

But the boy's eyes chose to wander all around the room aimlessly, not settling here nor there.

"Sammy!" Dean shook him. "Look at me! Eyes front! Right now!" He brought out the big guns - the Dad voice - hoping it would scare Sam into cooperating.

And something in Sam responded. His eyes stopped their foray around the room and settled on Dean, unfocused still, but at least they were steady.

"Good job, little brother. Look at me. Do you know who I am?"

Sam just stared.

"Sammy! Who am I? Say my name! Now! Do it!"

"Deeean."

Dean was elated. "Good job! I'm here, Sammy, okay? I'm here, and you're safe. But we gotta get you up and get this walked off. You're scaring me here, little bro." He looked around for Jeremy,

"Kid, help me get him up and on his feet."

Jeremy stepped around Dean and took Sam's left arm, and together they pulled him into a sitting position. They sat one on either side of the younger boy and pulled his arms across their shoulders.

"Ready? On three. One, two, three." They rose in unison, pulling Sam up with them. His head immediately flopped forward and his knees folded.

"Uh uh, Sammy. Get those feet back under you, you hear me?" Dean fell back onto his drill sergeant routine. It made him feel like a sack of shit, yelling at his injured brother this way, but it seemed to be the only thing that worked. Sam shifted minutely, as though he were trying to take on a bit of his own weight.

"Good job, Sammy. Come on. You can do this. This is nothing compared to one of Dad's training routines when he's pissed, right?" They slowly made a circuit of the common area once, twice, three times. Then Dean motioned to the couch again, and they eased him back down. Dean knelt in front of him and slapped his face again.

"Come on. Lock it up, Sam! Look at me!"

"Deeean. Sha …"

"Yep. Come on. Listen to me. You've been roofied or some shit. You can't go to sleep right now. You hear me? You gotta keep walkin' and talkin'. Gotta keep on keepin' on, Sammy."

"Is he gonna be okay?" Jeremy asked, his voice hitching.

Dean looked over at the kid and then looked away. Freaking Jeremy was more of an open book than Sam was, and that took some damn doing. Dean felt sorry for him. "Can you make coffee?" He asked the boy.

"Hunh?"

"Coffee. Can you make coffee? Make it nice and strong?"

Jeremy nodded.

"Good. Do it."


	18. Helpless

Something was wrong, like seriously, seriously wrong. Sam could feel it. He had strong hands on him, slapping his face. And a worried voice speaking harshly to him, but he couldn't focus his eyes to see who his attacker was or make out what the man was saying.

It was all a blur. The man had drugged him or something, but he didn't know when or how. He didn't recognize this place that surrounded him, and he knew that if he didn't get away - get back to Dean - he was in trouble. Gathering every bit of strength that he could, Sam shoved the rough hands away from him and shot up from the couch. He could hear a noise in the background like somebody wailing, and he wondered absently why that noise seemed to emanate from his own throat.

There was a struggle, and the rough hands reached for him again, but Sam got his wits about him and threw a punch that connected squarely with a face. He thought the man went down hard and used the moment to try and find the door. He was on it, reaching for it, when the hands were back. Strong arms encircled his waist, pulling him away from the door and freedom, and Sam struggled to connect with the man's chest. He jabbed an elbow back and heard a satisfied grunt. Spinning, he took advantage of his attacker's momentary pain to shove the man back and away hard. Sam reached back for the door and twisted the knob and was through. He shot into the parking lot and stood still, disoriented.

And that split-second of hesitation was all the man needed. He moved up in front of Sam and caught him with a solid right hook. Then Sam was down and in agony. He heard the odd, high-pitched wail ramp up again as the man picked him up off the ground and cradled him gently to his chest.

Sam wanted to keep fighting. He wanted to struggle, but when he'd hit the ground, it felt like maybe he'd landed in hot lava, and the pain in his back was immobilizing.

Sam felt hot tears on his face and sobs wrack his chest, and he felt humiliation at crying so hard in front of the man who had hurt him. Crying was weak. It wasn't The Winchester Way, and Dad and Dean would be so ashamed if they saw him in his moment of defeat.

But the pain overwhelming. First Sam cried with the fury of it. Then, when the man placed him back on the couch and knelt over him looking down, to his horror, Sam began to beg. He was mortified at the words spewing from his mouth between sobs, but he could do nothing to stop the shameful flow.

Sam begged for his life. He begged for the man to make the pain stop. He pleaded with his attacker to please, please stop hurting him. He cried out for his brother, begging Dean to save him.

And in between it all, the incessant, steady wail that sounded almost inhuman buzzed in his ears. The sound was heartbreaking, and Sam wondered idly why it seemed to just go on and on.

Even the man who subdued him with strong hands on his shoulders seemed affected by the piercing wail. Sam felt wet drops of something that felt like tears hit the skin on his chin and neck. And sometimes, when the keening cry would subside for a moment, Sam thought he heard soft sobs that weren't his own.

And he wondered briefly why his attacker would be crying.


	19. Coming Down

Hours. It had gone on for hours.

Sammy was as messed up as Dean had ever seen him. Whatever that bastard had laced in Sam's water, it did a number on him unlike anything Dean had ever witnessed.

And Dean had seen a hell of a lot in his day.

Between the hallucinations, the wail that went straight through Dean's heart like a silver blade, and the pleading for his big brother to come save him, Sam eventually wore himself out. At the end of it all, he lay shivering and hopeless, curled up in a fetal position on the couch, staring at Dean and pleading with him in a defeated voice to please let him go, to let him go back to his brother.

And no matter how many times Dean tried to make Sammy recognize him, the boy simply couldn't. Whatever images of monsters Sam carried around with him inside his head - the drugs had brought them to life. It was achingly clear to Dean that his little brother was locked inside his head with a man who intended to kill him, and there wasn't one damned thing Dean could do to save him.

Finally, he resorted to cuffing one of Sam's wrists to his own and sat beside him, cradling him, while Jeremy plied the boy with strong, black coffee.

"Come on, Sammy. Drink up for me little brother. Drink the coffee. It will help. I promise."

Sam threw up his hand that wasn't cuffed and knocked the cup away, spilling scalding, hot coffee down his own lap. Thinking Dean had hurt him again, Sam's eyes went wide and teary, and the pleading began anew.

"Please. Please stop. Please. Dean! Please. I need Dean!" He doubled over on himself as Jeremy tried to wipe the worst of the hot coffee off Sam's legs with a cool, damp cloth.

"Dean!"

Dean's eyes watered as he held his little brother close and tried to make his presence known. "I'm right here, Sammy. I swear. I'm here and I got you. Nobody's hurting you again. Not ever. You hear me?"

Sam sobbed softly, "Please let me go find Dean. Please. I … I need Dean."

Jeremy's stricken eyes locked with Dean's. "It was never like this for me. Something's really wrong." he worried.

Dean gazed back, feeling as helpless as he'd ever been. He knew they'd get Sam over this, whatever it was, eventually. But damn if it wasn't a heart-wrenching process.

"It'll be okay, kid." Dean tried to reassure his brother's friend. "It just has to wear off. We just have to keep him safe until it works its way out of his system. Let's try plain water this time."

Jeremy nodded and moved to fill a plastic cup with water. He held it to Sam's parched lips. "Come on, Sammy." the boy coaxed quietly. "It's just water. Drink it, okay?"

Sam turned his head away, but Jeremy was persistent. He moved to sit on the couch beside Sam and place a warm hand on the boy's cheek. "Sammy. Drink." He commanded.

Sam stared at Jeremy through bleary eyes, but he accepted the gift of water. And once the soothing liquid began sliding down his parched throat, he gulped the rest down greedily.

"Easy." Dean admonished, "Not all at once."

But the water seemed to help somewhat, and once they'd gotten about a glass and a half into him, Sam began to come down from whatever it was Rudd had given him. The shivering lessened until it stopped altogether, and Sam could finally recognize that the people around him were trying to help and not hurt.

That's when Dean decided it would be okay to let Sam sleep off the rest. He enlisted Jeremy's help to get the boy back into bed, and then he left Jeremy to stand watch while he moved Rudd from the bathtub to the trunk of the Impala. And when Dean returned two hours later, he offered no explanations about where he'd been, and nobody cared enough about the missing man to ask.


	20. The Talk

When Sam awoke, his first image was of Jeremy lying next to him on the bed, and he smiled. His friend looked like he'd collapsed out of sheer exhaustion - one foot still on the floor and a basin of water beside him. In his hand, Jeremy still held the cloth he must have been dipping to soothe Sam's dreams.

Dreams. Shit. Sam could recall bits and pieces, but not the whole picture. He was pretty sure Dean had made it back, but that was as far as his memory would let him delve. He sat up, wincing at the pain in his back and in his head. He extricated Jeremy from the cloth and the basin and placed a cover over the boy. Then he stumbled out into the common area to search for his brother.

When he heard the shower running, Sam headed to the kitchenette instead. He emptied the black tar that had apparently been brewing all night and rinsed out the pot, filling it with fresh water. Once the coffee was on, Sam sat down in front of his laptop and pulled up Jeremy's "missing" poster.

He was studying it intently when Dean's hand on his shoulder startled him, making him jump. He looked up. "You okay, Dean?" He asked, remembering that the last time he could recall seeing his brother was just before his mission to visit Douglas.

Dean smiled and sat down across from him at the small table. He tousled Sam's hair the way the boy always hated. "Yeah, I'm good, Sammy. How about you?"

Sam studied his brother, looking for signs of deception, but Dean looked fine. "I'm okay. Did … did you see Douglas?" He couldn't help it; he shuddered.

Dean saw. He smiled in reassurance. "Went, saw, took care of. You don't have to worry about that monster ever again, Sammy. Is that coffee I smell? Cause I might have to kiss you." Dean headed toward the sweet scent of coffee beans in the morning.

Sam chuckled. "Hey, after you get fueled up over there, I need to show you something."

Dean padded quietly around the kitchenette, pouring two cups of coffee - one black and the other girly. He brought them both to the table and sat down, taking a sip. "What?"

"This." Sam said, turning the laptop to face his brother.

Dean began reading, then his eyes widened. He looked up. "Holy shit. That who I think it is?"

Sam nodded. "He didn't even know. We just found it last night."

Dean scrolled down to Rudd's photo. "That bastard."

"I know. We should turn him in or something."

Dean glanced up at Sam, realizing he had no recollection of what Rudd had almost accomplished and then realizing that he had no intention of ever telling him. "I, uh, took care of that little problem too while I was out." He admitted, returning to his coffee.

Sam's eyes widened, but he didn't ask. Instead, he turned the laptop back around to look at the number for the missing children's line. "Think we should call it?"

Dean sat back. "Maybe use your powers of ultimate research to see if you can find his mother first, Sam. Might just be better to take him right to her. Save him a lot of explaining to authorities."

"I already did." Sam admitted, sheepishly. "She still lives in the same house."

"Like she was expecting him to come home." Dean finished.

"That's what I think too. Hey, do you know when Dad's coming back?"

Dean yawned, "Called him this morning. He's gonna be a few more days."

Sam suddenly felt a chill wash over him, "You, uh, you didn't tell him about … I mean … what I did, did you?" He asked in a scared voice.

Dean snorted. "So he could kill us both and throw our bodies in the river, you mean? No Sammy, I left that part out."

Sam smiled, "Thanks, Dean." He said, meaning it.

"No problems, little bro. Just don't you ever do something like that again, you hear me?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Don't worry. Think I've learned my lesson."

Dean studied him. "We all make mistakes, kiddo. Don't beat yourself up over it."

Sam snorted, "No pun intended."

Dean shuddered.

Sam took a deep breath. "So she lives in Columbus. Think we could … you know. Take him home?"

Dean considered the request. "Yeah. I mean, we gotta take the kid home. Can't just put him on a bus. That wouldn't be right."

Sam's eyes lit up, and he moved around behind Dean to hug him. "Thanks, Dean." He said, happy.

Dean smiled. He grabbed Sam's hand and directed him back into his seat, scooting the girly coffee toward the younger boy. "Speaking of the kid, Sam. We should probably talk?" He buried his head nervously in his cup.

Sam shot an anxious glance at his brother and retreated into his own cup, as well. "I guess," he mumbled around the rim.

Dean cleared his throat, "So, uh, listen. I mean … what. Or, how …"

Sam snorted at his brother's inelegance. "What Dean? What are you trying to ask me?"

Dean sighed, running his hand over his face. "I'm so not good at these girly talks, Sam."

Sam took pity. "Are you trying to ask me if we … you know … did anything?" He blushed.

Dean's gaze grew sharp, knowing that if they had, his brother was going to have to be tested. Jeremy was a sweet kid, but he'd had experiences that Sam probably couldn't even begin to imagine. "Did you?"

Sam ducked his head. "We .. uh … we kissed a few times."

"That's all? Just kissing?"

Sam nodded, looking away. Suddenly his coffee cup was the most interesting piece of dinnerware he'd ever seen.

Dean sighed in relief. "Good."

Sam wasn't sure how to feel about his brother's reaction. He grew quiet.

"Would … would you hate me if we had?" He couldn't bring himself to meet Dean's eyes.

Dean's eyes shot to Sam's face. "What! Why would you think that?"

Sam shrugged. "Dunno. You seem awfully relieved is all." He found the courage to glance up at Dean. "You think I'm a freak?"

Dean stared hard at his little brother. "Sammy, why would I hate you or think you're a freak? You're my little brother for crying out loud."

"Cause I like a boy. I mean, I really like him, Dean. I feel comfortable with him. It's different than it is when I'm around girls. Does that make me weird?"

Dean shook his head, "No way, Sammy. So you like boys. No big deal. Honestly, it would probably be weird if you didn't. I mean, you've only ever been around guys - me, Dad, Bobby, Caleb, Pastor Jim. You were too young to remember Mom. It makes sense that you feel more comfortable around boys than you do girls."

Sam shifted uncomfortably. "Some people would think it was wrong."

Dean chose his next words carefully. "Sammy, everyone is entitled to their own opinions and beliefs. If someone thinks it's wrong for a boy to like other boys, that's fine. That's their belief, and they should be entitled to have it. Just like it's okay for you to have your own beliefs. And if you believe that you like boys instead of girls, then that's fine too. Everyone is different. Everyone has their own history. The only time it becomes wrong is if one person attacks another person because they believe differently. If somebody makes you feel bad because you like boys - if they say mean things or try to fight with you or call you insulting names - then that's where the line get crossed. Does that make sense?"

Sam studied his brother. It did make sense when you put it like that. "So, you don't think there's anything wrong with me?" He bit his lip worriedly.

Dean grinned. "Well, I mean, you've always been a freak, but about this? No way."

Sam smiled, "But … you … did you ever like a boy?"

Dean tried to nod nonchalantly. He had no plans of ever revealing the things he'd had to do to get them both by. "Sure. A time or two."

Sam's eyebrows shot skyward. "Really?"

"Yeah. Like I said, Sam. It's not big deal. It's only a big deal if you make it a big deal."

"Then why did you sound so relieved when I said we only kissed?"

"Because of getting you tested. If you two had ... you know … gotten together, then you would have to be tested, Sam. It's just the responsible thing to do. And if you had ever been with … another boy first … then the kid would have needed it too. But you didn't, so you don't, and everything's cool."

"What if I want to?"

Dean almost dropped his coffee.

"Do you?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

"Does he?"

Sam shrugged.

Dean sighed. "Sam, I know you probably don't want to hear this, but you're fourteen."

"I know."

"You should be riding your bike and playing skeeball and shit."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Yeah, because that sounds just like us."

Dean snorted. "I know. But still … just because you were raised with wolves …"

Sam giggled.

"Just think about it first, okay? And if you decide that, you know, you both want to take it farther, then come see me. We'll have to have another girly talk like this one, only better." Dean shuddered.


	21. Maybe

"So, you wanna get your stuff from the bookstore?" Sam asked.

Jeremy paused in devouring the breakfast sandwich that Dean had brought back from the fast food joint across the street. "I think so. Is that okay? I mean, I'd like my Beetles at least." He looked to Dean. "I don't have a key though."

Dean shrugged, "Doesn't matter."

Sam grinned, "There's no lock anywhere that Dean can't pick."

Dean smiled. The kid was right, after all.

"Cool." Jeremy said, smiling up at Sam. And when Sam smiled back so openly, Jeremy felt his eyes water. He looked quickly away, blinking rapidly. Sam saw and placed a comforting hand on the blond boy's arm. "Your mom's gonna freak when she sees you, you know."

Jeremy stared, "Maybe." He shrugged.

Sam frowned. "What do you mean? She's been looking for you for six years, dude. Of course she's gonna freak."

"Lot can change in six years. Maybe she's got a new guy. Maybe they had a kid. You never really know. Maybe …"

They waited.

"Maybe what?" Sam pressed.

Jeremy shrugged again, "Maybe she's moved on, you know? Might just be a painful memory more than anything else." He stood up and shoved his hands in his pockets, turning to face the window. "Maybe she won't want the reminder."

Dean spoke up, "She's your mom. Moms don't move on from losing their kids. Sam's right. She's gonna freak."

Sam moved to stand next to his friend, a warm hand on his shoulder. "It's gonna be okay. You'll see. There's a whole new life waiting for you in Ohio, man."

Jeremy shrugged again, sniffing. "Maybe I don't wanna go anymore." He mumbled quietly.

"What? Why?" Sam asked, baffled.

But then Jeremy raised his head and looked sadly into Sam's own, and Sam suddenly thought he knew. "Jeremy …" He started.

But Jeremy had found his courage, turning swiftly to Dean. "I could … I could come with you? Hang out, you know? I'd earn my own way. Wouldn't be any trouble." He asked hopefully.

Dean's eyes widened, and he took a sip of his coffee to buy a moment of time. His glance swept to Sam, who looked just as miserable as Jeremy did. Dean shook his head. "Won't work kid. Sorry." he said, feeling like the biggest jerk in the world.

There was silence for a moment, and then Sam spoke up. "Well … maybe it could work? Maybe we could make it work?"

Dean's eyebrows shot up. "You forgetting about Dad, Sam? No way in hell is he gonna be on board with that."

"S'okay." Jeremy offered, turning back to the window. "It was a dumb idea anyway."

"No it wasn't." Sam replied, looking at Dean pleadingly.

Dean held up his hands. "I'm sorry, Sammy. You know Dad. There's no way that would work."

Sam turned back to Jeremy, swallowing hard. "You, uh, you wanna take a walk? I think that's a park over behind the restaurant." Sam pointed.

Jeremy paused then nodded.

Sam turned to Dean, "We'll be back shortly." he said, wincing slightly as he pulled on his jacket.

Dean hesitated, not wanting to let either boy out his sight. But then he nodded, realizing that they needed some space. "Just keep your eyes open, is all. Take your phone." He addressed Sam.

"Yeah, I will." Sam grabbed Jeremy's elbow and tugged him out the door, closing it behind them.

"You wanna talk?" Sam asked, as they settled into a comfortable stride, keeping pace with one another.

Jeremy shrugged. "What's to talk about? She'll either be glad to see me, or she won't. If she's not, I got skills. I can take care of myself."

Sam halted in the middle of the street. "You're not doing … that … anymore."

Jeremy smiled, "Nah, look. It'll be fine. Whatever happens."

Sam grabbed at the blond boy's sleeve. "No, seriously, man. You're not even thinking about that, right?"

Jeremy turned to face his friend, smiling sadly. He raised a finger to gently trace the wicked mark on Sam's face. "Your poor face, Sammy. If that scars, I'll never forgive myself, you know."

Sam stared steadily into Jeremy's eyes. "Not your fault. And you didn't answer my question."

Jeremy pulled Sam down onto the park bench that sat still wet from the rain. "You're gonna text me, right?" He asked the youngest Winchester.

Sam nodded, hands buried in his pockets. "And email. And call."

"Good. Cause it's not just anyone that I let leaf through my Beetles, man."

Sam snorted.

"So what about you? Where will you and Dean go after you drop me in Columbus?"

"Not sure. Wherever Dad's next job takes him, I guess."

"So you never did tell me what kind of work he does?"

Sam hesitated, "He's an … exterminator."

Jeremy's eyes lit up. "Cool! Like with bugs and rats and stuff?"

Sam nodded, "All kinds of creatures."

"You know, I had a dad once. I can just barely remember him. I think he died when I was around 5 or so. But I remember he had long blond hair like mine. That's why I never wanted to cut it. I remember sitting next to him on this old flowery couch and playing with his ponytail. I remember him smiling and telling me one day mine would put his to shame."

Sam smiled, "Looks like he called it."

"I know, right? I never could bring myself to cut it even though it made too good a … a handle."

Sam's eyes were wet. He reached over and ran his hand over the long length. "I like it. It makes you look like a badass. Maybe I'll grow one." He pulled his own hair back with both hands and turned to face his friend. "What do you think?"

Jeremy turned on the bench and took in the sight of Sam. After a moment, he gathered his wits about him. "I think I'm gonna miss you, Sammy." He said, a single tear descending to land in the corner of his sad smile.


	22. Jeremy's Homecoming

The drive west was uneventful if a little crowded. Sam sat next to his brother in the front seat, and Jeremy sat next to Sam. It was a bit of a pain in the ass, Dean thought. But then he realized the two kids would be separated forever once they got to Columbus.

And Dean didn't wanna be THAT guy.

So he drove on in silence, his right arm a little numb and Sam in charge of the cassette player.

It was a long ride.

Eventually, though, the Impala rumbled up in front of a little run-down rancher in the middle of a somewhat seedy neighborhood, and the boys sat still - just looking.

There was a small yard that was neatly manicured, some kind of purple flowers blooming in rows beneath the front windows. There was a chain-link fence encasing the backyard where an ancient-looking beagle lounged nonchalantly.

"Cyrus …" Jeremy breathed. "That's Cy. I … I forgot about him."

Sam smiled enviously. "You have a dog." He bumped Jeremy's shoulder with his own. "Lucky."

As though he heard them, the portly old canine rose unhurriedly to his feet and stretched in a parody of dog-facing-forward. His head turned toward the Impala, nose elevated. Even from their position across the street, they could see his nostrils flaring. He stood still then, staring and whined softly just once.

"He remembers you."

"He couldn't."

Sam smiled, "Sure he could. Dogs have long memories."

A mail truck pulled up in front of the small house just then, and they heard the pop of the mailbox opening and closing. When the truck pulled away, the front door opened, and a slight woman stepped out. She was rail-thin, dressed in jeans and a sweater, her long hair caught up in a braid that curled over one shoulder and draped nearly to her waist. She was younger than both Sam and Dean had pictured - maybe 35. And she walked with a slight limp as she made her way to the mailbox.

Dean looked over at Jeremy and raised an eyebrow, and the boy nodded, his face pale. They climbed out of the Impala together and stood in a row - Sam and Dean waiting for Jeremy to make the first move.

The woman finished gathering her mail and turned, her eyes traveling to the trio across the street. She glanced once, smiling Jeremy's smile and nodding, then turned back toward her front porch.

But then she froze.

Turning again, her eyes fell on Jeremy and her mouth drifted open. An assortment of envelopes and sale papers fluttered from her hands, and she stepped right out into the street, nearly getting clipped by a black Honda as it sailed past, blasting its horn.

All three boys surged forward then, Dean shouting and making a rude gesture to the driver and Jeremy calling, "Mom, look out!"

Then they were across the street, and the woman's eyes were fixed on Jeremy's. Tears rolled down her face as she reached out a shaking hand. Jeremy clasped her hand in his own and gazed down at the petite woman before him.

"It's you, isn't it? It's really you?" She asked, hand to her mouth, as though trying to choke off the sobs that were trying to come.

Jeremy smiled, his own face wet. "Yeah, Mom. It's me." he moved forward and pulled her into an awkward hug.

"I knew it. I knew you … you weren't dead. They told me you had to be dead. But I would have known. I would have … I would have felt it." She rambled, almost incoherently. Then she pulled back and stared up at him, her eyes traveling from his face to his hair to his chest. She took in the bruises and sobbed again. "You're hurt! And you're so tall. And your hair ..."

Jeremy stood, awkward under the appraisal but submitting. He ignore the part about being hurt. "I know, right? Puts Dad's to shame." he joked through tears.

She gasped, "You remember him?"

Jeremy nodded. "A little."

Her eyes were saucer-like. "I looked for you, sweetheart. I looked everywhere. I never gave up. I want you to know that. It was all my fault. I let that … that … thing … into our home. Let him be around you. Baby. I'm so sorry. It was all my fault." She took a step back and let go of his hand, ashamed. "You must hate me."

Jeremy shook his head. "No way, Mom. I don't … I could never blame you. I just … I want it to be … like it was again. He's … he's gone now. He can't hurt us anymore."

Her eyes overflowed again. "Did he? Did he … do this?" She touched the marks on his face.

Jeremy shook his head. "No Mom. I swear. He didn't. I'm okay, honest." He stepped forward and pulled her back into his arms. "I'm fine, and we're gonna be okay. I promise."

The woman suddenly seemed to notice the two other boys that accompanied her son. She suddenly shifted and pushed him behind her, facing them like a minuscule but ferocious tiger trying to defend its cub. "Who are you?" She demanded, suddenly fierce. "What are doing with my … my son?"

They both took steps back, and Dean raised both hands in surrender. "We're just helping the kid. That's all."

"Jeremy's my friend." Sam added, smiling.

"It's okay, Mom. This is my friend, Sam, and his brother, Dean. They helped me find you. They brought me here."

"Have they been with you all this time?"

He shook his head. "No, we … we just met a few days ago. I told Sam about you, and he did some research, and that's how we ended up here. They're good people, Mom. I promise."

She looked from Jeremy to Sam to Dean, as though trying to decide whether to believe what she was hearing. "Rudd?" She asked, staring up at her son. "What happened to … to that thing that took you?"

"He's dead," Dean stated flatly. "He's not a threat anymore."

She gasped. "What? How?"

Silence.

"Car accident." Dean lied.

"Thank God." She breathed. "Thank God He brought you back to me. I knew He would." She tugged on his hand, smiling finally. "Come on. Are you hungry?" Her question included them all. "Come inside and eat." She turned to her son. "Come see your room and get settled in."

"I still have a room?"Jeremy asked, surprised. As they made their way up the sidewalk.

"Always. I updated it a few times for you. I knew you'd be back one day."


	23. Meeting the Real Molly

Jeremy stood enthralled. His bedroom was small but perfect, and he turned in a circle, grinning at Sam.

"I have a bookcase, Sammy. Check it out." He ran reverent fingers over the deep, polished wood.

Sam grinned. "Lots of room for Beetles."

"And no cinder blocks. And check out this bed." The boy flopped down on the spacious double bed and stretched out, patting the space beside him."

Sam stretched his lanky frame out beside his friend, "So, you like it?"

Jeremy nodded. "I do. It's perfect."

The room was painted a soft gray, and breezy linen curtains filtered the southern sunlight into a soft glow. There was no closet; instead, an ancient, roomy wardrobe sat against one wall. It was full of shelves and drawers and cubbies just perfect for tucking away the many belongings of a teenage boy. The floor was hardwood, but a soft, gray rug lay beside the bed to catch bare feet in the mornings before they could get cold. Jeremy's bed was wrapped in a fluffy, down comforter in a shade of gray that matched the walls, and a lime-green quilt was folded up at the bottom to coordinate with the matching green pillowcases. The throw pillows were black.

"Who's this?" Sam asked, pulling a ratty-looking stuffed cat from between the pillows.

Jeremy gasped then grinned. He took the toy carefully and examined it reverently. "This is Beast." he smiled. "Beast, this is Sammy." He held the dilapidated cat up to Sam's face.

"Hi Beast. You're pretty ugly."

"That's why they call me Beast." Jeremy made the cat speak in a deep, booming voice.

Sam snorted. "You're such a dork."

Jeremy grinned. "Takes one to know one." He gazed into Sam's eyes. "This is so cool, but at the same time it sort of sucks, you know?"

"What? Why?" Sam sat up.

Jeremy followed, "Because now I have all this, and maybe the chance for a normal life, but …"

"What?" Sam thought he knew what was coming.

"But I finally have a best friend, and now I'm gonna lose him." Jeremy looked away, swallowing hard.

Sam felt his own throat tighten. "I know. I feel the same way. We can talk every day, you know."

Jeremy shook his head, "Not the same."

"I know." Sam was silent for a moment, then he reached over and lifted Beast out of Jeremy's hands. He held the toy to the blond boy's ear, "I love you, you know." He said in Beast's booming voice. "even though you are a badass."

Jeremy snorted and swiped at his face. He nodded, looking away. "Yeah. Me too." He looked back then, at Sam, "You're not a badass though, Sammy. And don't you ever become one, okay?" He shoulder-bumped the other boy. "Go kiss some girls your own age, you geek."

Sam smiled. "I don't wanna kiss girls. Wanna kiss you."

And so he did.

###

Jeremy's mother was named Molly. She sat at the kitchen table across from Dean, plying him with cherry pie and coffee, which made her okay in his book.

Do you know what happened to my son?" She asked hesitantly, as though afraid of hearing the answer.

Dean paused, wondering how much he should say and how much he should let Jeremy share. He finally decided that the boy's story was his to tell, and so kept his answer vague. He shook his head.

"No. Not really. He helped my little brother out, and that makes him a good kid in my book."

She smiled. "Jeremy always had so many friends. Kids just flocked to him."

Dean finished his pie and pushed his plate back. "That was awesome. Did you bake it?"

She nodded. "I like to bake. Keeps my mind occupied, you know?"

Dean nodded, "So is it just you and the kid?"

She grinned. "It is now. Well, and Cyrus. He's missed Jeremy too." She sobered suddenly, switching gears so fast it made Dean's head hurt. "Do you think he'll need … you know … therapy?"

Dean stared, not wanting to say too much. Then he shrugged, "He seems pretty resilient."

"You're not going to tell me what happened, are you?"

"I think that's up to Jeremy."

She nodded. "He won't tell me either. Even when he was little, he was always in tune with other people's emotions."

Dean smiled then. "The kid is strong. He made it this far. He'll be okay."

"And now he's back. I can keep him safe."

Dean couldn't help himself, he looked her slight form up and down and didn't ask how she planned to do that - all 80 pounds of her, but she read his mind, and her eyes changed.

"Come on. I'll show you something." She smiled, standing up and making her way to the door across the room that Dean had assumed was a pantry. But when she unlocked the door using the key that hung on a chain around her wrist, he was surprised to see that the room was a gun safe. His eyes widened as he took in the collection. He whistled, stepping inside.

"You know some of these aren't legal, right?"

She shrugged. "Some of what I hunt isn't legal either."

Dean smiled, running his hand lovingly over the limbs of a gorgeous recurve crossbow. "Meaning?"

She shrugged.

Dean froze, looking over at the petite woman who stood in the doorway, almost unrecognizable as the frail woman he'd met outside. "Silver broadheads? Why would you need silver broadheads? What the hell are you hunting?"

She cocked her head and smiled. "How did you recognize that they're silver? Most people assume they're steel."

"I know silver ammo when I see it." He fingered the small pieces of felt attached to the string. "Silencers?"

She nodded. "Because you're a hunter."

Dean stared. "You are too?"

"I am. Does Jeremy hunt?"

Dean tried to hide his surprise at the slight woman's admission, "No."

She took the crossbow down, handing it to him. "So the man who took him. He's dead?"

Dean took the bow, glancing over at her. "Yeah. You wanted to hunt him." It was more statement than question.

"Were there others?"

Dean sighted the bow, "One. He's … taken care of too."

"That was the one who hurt your brother? His face? He's the same one who hurt Jeremy?"

Dean nodded, handing the bow back.

"You killed him?"

Dean gazed at her. "I killed Rudd. The other one, I … took care of. Like he took care of Sam."

"Did you kill Rudd because he hurt Jeremy?"

"No."

"Then why?"

"He tried to take Sam away."

She gasped. "Like he took Jeremy." She reached up and hung the bow back on its hook. "And then you wouldn't have seen him again for six years. Or worse."

Dean blinked. "Not happening on my watch."

Her eyes filled with tears. "That's what I said too. I was so careful back then."

Dean didn't mention that she'd been careless enough to allow someone like Rudd near her child.

"I know what you're thinking. And it wasn't like that. He was charming when he wanted to be. I met him at church. Do you believe that? Church. If I'd been hunting then. If I'd been stronger. It wouldn't have happened."

Dean stared.

"It won't happen again. I know what's out there now."

He shrugged. "He was a con man. He probably could have fooled anyone."

"He didn't fool you."

"He fooled Sam. And that's pretty hard to do. Kid's smart as a whip."

They heard the sound of boots thumping down stairs then and stepped back into the kitchen. Molly locked the gun safe and leaned back against the door. And by the time the boys entered the kitchen, she was a simple soccer mom again.


	24. The Ambush

Dean placed the foil-wrapped pie reverently on the back seat and leaned against the side of the car, watching as Jeremy and Sam stood close together on the front porch saying their goodbyes. Molly stood with him, smiling.

"They're more than just friends, aren't they?" She asked, studying the pair.

"I don't think they know for sure. They met under some pretty intense circumstances." He glanced down at the young mother. "Does it bother you?"

She smiled. "No. I'm just so glad to have him back. Anything else can wait. Why? Does it bother you?"

Dean shook his head. "Sammy's a smart kid. He knows what he wants."

They both smiled when Jeremy put a hand behind Sam's head and pulled him in for a kiss. And Dean rolled his eyes. "If this gets any more freaking adorable …"

Molly laughed then, and the sound surprised Dean. It was the laugh of someone much bigger, much more formidable. "They are darned precious, aren't they?"

Sam came toward them then, swiping at his face. He climbed wordlessly into the front seat and almost slammed the door.

"That's my cue." Dean sighed, turning and giving the woman a smile. "Thanks for the pie."

"Thank you for bringing my son back to me." she said, surprising him with a hug.

After a moment, he hugged back. "Don't mention it. Take care. If you need anything, you can call us."

She nodded and stepped away as Dean climbed behind the wheel. He glanced over at Sam, but the younger boy was studiously avoiding looking anywhere but down at the worn comic book in his hands.

As they pulled away from the curb, Dean glanced over to see Jeremy standing forlornly on the porch, his shoulders hunched forward, hands shoved into his front jeans pockets, watching them drive away.

He looked like he'd just lost his best friend.

And as Molly took a step back to let the long Impala pass, she briefly registered the sound of a car across the street roaring to life. Glancing up, she caught the cold stare of a man behind the wheel of a gray Ford Taurus as he drove past. Out of habit, she noted his tag number. Then she went inside to get reacquainted with her son. It wasn't until hours later that she remembered to call the license plate in to her contact at the DMV.

###

Dean sneaked yet another glance at the boy who rode too silently beside him. For the first hour of the trip, Sam had stared resolutely out the window, swiping at his face on occasion, and refusing to answer anything more than yes or no to Dean's attempts at conversation. Finally, the tension in the car overwhelming, Dean took the next exit he saw and motored to a stop out front of a tired-looking motel that had a diner next door.

"I don't know about you, but that pie didn't cut it, Sammy. I'm starving. You hungry?"

Sam shrugged. "Not really." He said, staring studiously away from Dean.

Dean sighed. "You mad at me, Sam?"

Sam turned startled eyes his way. "What? No? Why would you think that?"

It was Dean's turn to shrug, "You haven't said two words since Columbus."

Sam looked away. "Just don't feel like talking, Dean."

"Okay. Well, I feel like eating. So humor me, okay?"

Sam nodded, reaching for the door handle. But suddenly, his door was whipped open, and rough hands dragged him outside.

Dean's eyes went wide, "Son of a …" He reached for his own door handle, but suddenly there was a body in the seat beside him and a gun in his face.

"Don't move." The man wore a freaking ski mask of all things.

Dean put his hands up in surrender, "Not moving." He watched in the rear view mirror as Sam was shoved unceremoniously into the back seat and a body slid in beside him. The figure beside Sam also wore a black ski mask, and he held a gun trained at his little brother's head.

"Sammy, you okay?"

Sam nodded without speaking, catching Dean's eye in the mirror.

"What is this?" Dean barked to the man beside him.

But the guy just motioned to the steering wheel. "Drive." He instructed.

Dean adjusted the mirror to keep an eye on the back seat as he backed out of the parking space and pulled out onto the main road. "Which way?"

"Left." The man instructed.

"What is this?" Dean demanded again. "Who are you?"

"Payback."

"Payback for what?"

"Payback for Dover. Ringing a bell?"

"Dover's a big place. Gotta be more specific." Dean wisecracked.

"Payback for this, you son of a bitch." And the figure in the backseat pulled off his ski mask. The man's face was a ruined mess of scars and lacerations, mixed with stitches. He looked like something from an old horror movie where the makeup was too thick and still made of rubber, but he was still, unmistakably, Douglas.

Dean heard Sam gasp then, and his eyes shot to the mirror. Sam's eyes were wide with horror as he scrambled to put as much distance as possible between himself and the man who populated his worst nightmares.

Dean swore then. "Guess I should have ended you after all."

Douglas grinned then, and it was worse than disconcerting. "Guess you should have because I have a date with little Sammy here that I'm not gonna miss out on twice."

Sam gasped again, "Dean!"

"Right here, Sammy. Don't you worry. Nothing's gonna happen."

"Shouldn't lie to your brother, Dean. He's young and suggestible and all. And I can assure you, Sammy, stuff is definitely about to happen."


	25. Losing the Upper Hand

"Where we goin' here, hoss?" Dean barked.

"Just drive." his carjacker sneered.

So Dean drove, keeping one eye on the road in front of him and the other on the man who sat way too close to his little brother in the back seat.

"Why don't you move over a little there, Dougie? Be a big boy and take the window seat."

Douglas smiled at Dean, meeting his eyes in the mirror. "Why? Afraid I'll do this?" And he pushed Sam back against the seat, grabbed the boy's chin and held his head in a vise grip as he landed a sloppy kiss on the kid's mouth.

Sam whimpered, his hands coming up to push the bigger man away, but Douglas swatted them away like flies. He grabbed the boy by his hair and yanked his head back, baring his throat. "Or maybe this?" He sunk his teeth into tender flesh, and Sam screamed.

"Dean!"

Dean's eyes went cold. "You ugly fuck. Get your filthy mouth of him." He warned, car veering over the center line.

"Eyes on the road, asshole!" Dean's passenger snarled, steadying the wheel.

"Let him alone Douglas, or I swear I'll end you for good, you son-of-a-bitch."

But Douglas had lost control, and he pushed the injured boy down on the seat, falling on top of him.

Sam fought in earnest then, fearing for his life. His hand flailed, catching Dean in the back of the head as he struggled. "Don't! Please! Get off!"

"Get off him!" Dean bellowed, rocketing the car onto the gravel shoulder and careening to a stop. He caught his passenger in the face with a well-aimed elbow, instantly incapacitating him. Then he was across the back seat and on top of the man who was on top of his brother.

He grabbed hair and pulled, "I said get the fuck off my brother!" Dean spit out between clenched teeth. He pulled Douglas back, slipping a blade to his exposed throat.

But Douglas still had his gun and the presence of mind to press it to Sam's temple. "Get out of the car, Dean." He warned. "Or you'll be cleaning your brother's brains off the upholstery for weeks. Get out and stand across the road. You can have him back when I'm finished."

Sam's eyes grew wide like saucers as they locked with Dean's.

"No!" The younger boy twisted beneath his attacker, trying to upend him, but then Dean heard the snick of the gun's safety being disengaged, and he suddenly knew that Douglas meant to collect everything he wanted from Sam or kill the boy in the process.

"Sam! Stop!" He warned, freezing. "Sammy! Stop it!"

Sam lay still, breathing hard, pinned by the combined weight of both Dean and Douglas. He whimpered again, "Dean … please … don't go. Don't leave me with him. I'd rather die!"

Douglas spoke again, his voice snide. "I got the upper hand here, Dean. And you know it. Now get off me, and go stand outside or else."

"You'll have to kill us both before I let you lay another filthy paw on him." Dean said quietly. "You might get one of us, but you won't get us both. Are you willing to die for the chance to terrorize my kid brother?"

"Whatever it takes. Sammy here is the first to go." He put his hand on Sam's forehead and pressed down to hold him in place as he placed the gun to the boy's temple once again. "You sure you wanna see that, Dean? I might miss just a little bit. Just enough to make him die slow."

Sam clenched his eyes tight shut, tears leaking from the corners. "Don't leave me, Dean. Just let him shoot me. Please!"

"He's not shooting you, Sam."

"Please, Dean! Don't …"

But Dean released the hair he'd been holding and shifted his position on the seat so that most of his weight was off his brother. He took the knife from Douglas's throat.

"Dean!" Sam was hysterical.

"It's okay, Sammy." Dean promised. "It's gonna be okay."

"No!" Sam was crying in earnest now, flailing beneath his attacker and trying desperately to free himself.

Dean was contemplating his next move when the passenger from the front seat regained control of his arms and legs. He snagged Dean by the back of the shirt and dragged him out of the car, clubbing him with the butt of his substantial handgun. And the last thing Dean heard as his world went black was the sound of his little brother sobbing.


	26. By the Grace of Angels

Sam lay pinned beneath the man who meant to hurt him, maybe kill him. And Dean was incapacitated. Sam had seen the other man drag his brother out of the car and strike him with the butt of his gun.

Maybe this was it.

Maybe this was how it was all supposed to end.

So many terrible things had happened to him in the space of a week that Sam couldn't help but feel like he was being punished.

Maybe he was meant to die here on the back seat of his brother's beloved car, his body used and bleeding while his breath slowly slipped away from him.

Maybe it's what he deserved.

He felt the man scrabbling around for the buckle of his belt, and Sam suddenly knew that whatever happened here tonight, it would be better if he didn't survive it. The man who held him down was nothing less than a vicious sadist bent on revenge. And Sam was his instrument.

He felt the man's sloppy mouth on his neck and on his cheek, struggling to find purchase on Sam's lips. But the boy rocked his head back and forth desperately, trying to avoid the inevitable.

He felt the man's strong hands - one on his neck, the other struggling to unfasten Sam's jeans - and he tried to buck him off.

All that scored him was a stinging blow to the face, however. It was hard enough to temporarily stun him, and he thought he actually saw small bursts of light behind his eyes that might have been stars.

The man's hands were everywhere - invasive and claiming all at once. And his mouth kept up a steady stream of profanity, listing all the things he planned to do to the boy who lay helpless and begging beneath him.

Sam knew he was going to die.

He just hoped that death came before the rest of the atrocities that Douglas had planned for him.

Sam closed his eyes. In his mind, he kept the images of Dean and Jeremy close. Inside his head, they were there for him, pleading with him to be strong, to just survive whatever happened so he could go on with the rest of his life. They reached out comforting hands to him, pulling him into a warm, imagined embrace. And when the man's cold hands finally slipped beneath the coarse denim of his worn jeans and lay claim to his warm skin, it was to his mind that Sam retreated.

And then the weight was lifted off him.

Suddenly, Sam was alone in the car, his clothes mostly still intact, and he heard the sound of the man's scream as a shot rang out.

Voices.

Then another shot.

Then all was still.

Sam pulled himself into a seated position against the far corner of the car seat, folding in on himself as much as possible. He wrapped long arms around his knees and rocked quietly, a soft whimper escaping his lips. And when the figure crawled into the car with him, Sam tried to kick it away.

But he saw the long, blond ponytail then, and the slight frame wrapped in a faded denim jacket, and recognition dawned.

And when Jeremy moved in close and pulled Sam into his arms, shushing him quietly and whispering comforting words, Sam thought he had died and gone to Heaven.

###

When Dean awoke, he was lying on the cold ground, his head resting on something warm and soft. He opened his eyes and focused on the slight figure leaning above him as soft hair that smelled like coconuts tickled his face.

"Dean." Molly said, smiling down at him. "Are you coming back to us now?"

Dean groaned, shifting in the slight woman's lap. "What? Where's Sam?" He was suddenly wide awake and trying to sit up.

But surprisingly strong hands pushed him back down. "Sam is fine. Jeremy is with him. You need to stay still. You're hurt." She soothed him. "Just rest for a few minutes. I promise. Sam is fine."

Dean closed his eyes. He wanted to get up. He really did. But his head was swimming so badly, and Molly's embrace was so comforting. "Sammy? Did that … that thing …"

"Shh. No. Douglas Lester is dead. So is his buddy. Shot clean through the heart and the head, respectively. He didn't have time to finish what he had … planned … for your brother. Sam is fine. You can trust me, Dean." She smiled again, and Dean was sure she was an angel.

"How are you here?" He asked, confused. "How did you find us?" He struggled again to sit up because, well, he was Dean Winchester.

"He followed you from Delaware. I made him when you pulled away from the house. When I ran the plates, and they came back to someone named Douglas Lester, Jeremy was beside himself. So I called in a favor and had a friend use Jeremy's phone to track Sam's. Illegal, but necessary. I hope you don't mind." She smiled again. "You had a couple hours head start, but the old Ford can fly when she needs wings."

Dean stared at the petite figure that sat on the ground in front of him. The pistol at her side was bigger than her hand, but she'd used it to save his brother's life - to save his own life. She'd downed two vicious felons in mere minutes, and yet here she sat, smiling innocently at him, her long, blond braid curling down over his cold hand.

Dean felt something stir first in his heart, then a moment later, in his pants, as he sat studying the woman whose strength and intelligence defined her and made her so much more than what she appeared to be.

He rose to his feet, pulling her with him, and peered into the back seat, taking in the sight of Jeremy cradling his little brother comfortingly. Dean moved around to the other side of the car and opened Sam's door. Kneeling down, he placed a gentle hand on his brother's knee.

"Sammy, what happened? How …how far did … "

But Sam smiled back at him through a tear-streaked face, shaking his head. "It didn't. They got here in time. Nothing happened, Dean. I swear."

Dean dropped his head then, relief washing over him like a river. He was safe. Sammy was finally safe.

And Dean didn't know where to begin to thank the two people who'd made that possible.


	27. The Mighty Hunters

"Did he hurt you again, Sammy?" Jeremy held Sam's chin in his hand as the boy shivered against him. "You can tell me."

"N-no, honest. What I told Dean, that was the truth." Sam sighed, expelling a shaky breath into the blond boy's chest. "You got here in time. It was close though. His hands ..."

"What about them?"

"They … they were on me … down there." Sam shuddered.

"Shhh … When Dean gets you both checked into a nice motel, you can take a nice long shower and then you won't feel them anymore, 'kay?"

Sam nodded, "What if I still do?"

"You won't, okay? Cause I said so."

Sam hugged his friend tighter. "Did you sh-shoot them?"

Jeremy chuckled, "No. Mom did."

Sam raised his head in surprise, "Hunh?"

"I know, right? Who knew my mother was a badass? She told me all about it, Sam. She showed me her gun safe. You wouldn't believe it. She actually hunts things like are in the Beetles - monsters and shit. They're real, Sam!"

Sam stared, "She's a hunter?"

"That's what she called it, yeah. How did you know?" Jeremy studied his friend.

"I … uh … so is Dad. And Dean. And I mean, me too, I guess."

"What?"

Sam gazed at Jeremy, "You mad? Cause I didn't tell you, I mean?"

Jeremy pulled him close, "Nah. Could never be mad at you, Sammy. Shocked is all. I'm the only one who didn't know about those things. So, you ever kill anything?"

Sam nodded.

"Tell me?"

Well, a werewolf once cause it was attacking Dean, and another time, I did a vampire. Mostly though, I just do the research."

Jeremy considered this new information, "So this werewolf - you have to cut off its head after?"

Sam snorted, "No, just the silver bullet." He looked up, "I told you they don't follow the lore."

"Yeah, you did. Guess I'm gonna need to read up if I'm gonna hunt, hunh?"

Sam sat up. "You're gonna be a hunter now?"

Jeremy nodded, excited, "You kidding? Hell yeah."

Sam looked away.

"Hey, what's the matter?"

Sam shrugged, " Well, now I just … you know … now I have to worry about Dad and Dean and you and your mom. Couldn't you just work in a grocery store or something?"

Jeremy chuckled, "Sorry, Sammy. If it's a choice between bag boy and monster hunter …"

"It's not as fun as it sounds, you know."

Jeremy pulled him back into a hug, nodding. "I guess it gets lonely, hunh? You always seem so lonely, Sammy."

"School's a real bitch, moving all the time. It really sucks."

"Yeah, but …"

"What?"

"Werewolves! And vampires! And … and what else?"

Sam chuckled, "Well … um … there's djinn and shapeshifters and skinwalkers and demons and shtrigas and reapers and tulpas and wendigos and witches …"

Jeremy stared.

"And rougarou and rawheads and poltergeists and changelings and …"

"Yeah?" Jeremy interrupted.

"Yeah … and … and … "

"And what?"

"And don't get killed, okay?"

Jeremy smiled nervously, "Never. Gotta be here to text my Sammy, right?"

"Damn straight you do."


	28. Only One Regret

"Time to go, Sammy." Dean leaned in and spoke quietly to the boys. "We gotta meet up with Dad by tomorrow night."

Sam nodded, "Just a few more minutes, Dean, please?"

Dean hesitated, but then he noted the comfort his little brother received from Jeremy, and though he couldn't quite push down a small niggle of disappointment that it was no longer Dean that Sam seemed to need when he was hurting, the older boy understood that for the good thing it was.

"Okay, but then we really need to get going."

Dean straightened up and turned to Molly where she stood reloading. "So you're just full of surprises."

She smiled without looking up. "Appearances can be deceiving, Dean."

"You're not kidding."

"I only have one regret about this whole thing, you know." She offered, moving close.

Dean grinned down at her, "Yeah? What's that?"

"That you're not ten years older, Dean Winchester."

Dean's eyes shot open in surprise. Whatever he'd thought she'd been about to say, that hadn't been it. He suddenly struggled to look taller and shot Molly his sexiest smirk.

"Hey, I'm legal."

"That you are." She agreed. "And I hope we cross paths again someday." she offered, smiling.

Dean tried to appear slighted, but he couldn't. Molly's smile was too contagious.

"Thank you for saving my brother." He murmured.

"Thank you for saving my son." She said, leaning up. But her kiss brushed his cheek instead of his lips. And then she was gone, disappearing into her car with her son.

And Dean and Sam watched in silence as they drove away.

\- THE END -

 _ **Author's Note:** Thank you to everyone who stayed the course til the end. Thanks for all the kind reviews and the follows and the favorites. And keep an eye out for a possible sequel somewhere down the road. Molly and Jeremy kind of grew on me :)_


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